


Black Coffee

by musicofthespheres



Series: Black Coffee 'Verse [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Character Development, F/M, Gen, M for later chapters, Tension, coffee shop AU, he also learns how to be social, it's a miracle, not just another fluffy coffee shop au, there's an actual plot!, this is a slowburn dammit, vegeta learns what feelings are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:47:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 59,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicofthespheres/pseuds/musicofthespheres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vegeta inherits a coffee shop. This isn't what he had in mind when he left Frieza's employ all those years ago, but sometimes life takes you in funny directions. With the help of the assistant manager, Goku, the weekend supervisor, Piccolo, and an over-worked bunch of baristas, Vegeta turns the store into something even he can be proud of. And maybe he'll find a life he can be proud of, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inheritance

Vegeta looks up from his computer at the smartly-dressed man standing in his doorway, about to knock. “Yes?” Vegeta says, mildly annoyed that his secretary hasn’t informed him of a visitor. 

“Your secretary was away from her desk,” the man informs him, sensing Vegeta’s irritability. “And I have some important news that shouldn’t wait.” He hesitates at the door, waiting for Vegeta to inform his next move. 

Checking his schedule and seeing that his afternoon is free, Vegeta motions him in wordlessly. The man closes the door behind him and takes a seat at one of the plush leather chairs situated in front of Vegeta’s desk. “My name is Kami,” the man says once he settles in and places a folio of documents on Vegeta’s desk. “I am the lawyer representing the estate of a Mr. Frieza. I’m to inform you that he has been, er, that is to say,” he clears his throat, “that he has passed away. I am here on behalf of Mr. Zarbon, the executor of Mr. Frieza’s estate.” 

“Frieza’s dead?” Vegeta can’t help but exclaim. 

Kami nods. “Yes, I am afraid so. I’m here to inform you that you’ve been left an inheritance.” 

Vegeta can’t believe it. He hasn’t heard hide nor hair of Frieza and his cronies in nearly a decade. Vegeta had moved on. He’d made a life of his own: finished his business degree, got a high-paying executive job, his own office. A secretary! He’d never dreamed he’d have a secretary of his own.  
“Wait,” he says, snapping out of his reverie. “Did you say ‘inheritance’?” Since when would Frieza leave him anything? They hated each other’s guts. Frieza had vowed to put a bullet in Vegeta’s head the next time they met. 

“Yes,” Kami replied succinctly. He sighed. “I’m afraid it’s not a conventional lump sum of money, however,” he continued. “Mr. Frieza left particular instructions in his Will that you be given ownership of the coffee shop he owned.” 

A coffee shop. Frieza had purchased, with his hard-earned and probably illegal money, a coffee shop. Of all things. “What was it, a front?” Vegeta asks drily.  
Kami chuckles. “Ah, no. This was one of Mr. Frieza’s, er, legitimate interests. He specifically requested that you run it in his stead once he passed on. He said that you were the most qualified, having pursued your business degree and taking employ at such a prestigious company.”  
Vegeta tilted his head. “So then why would he think I’d have any interest in running a… a coffee shop?” he asked.  
Kami shrugged. “I mean, he’s dead, you can do what you want with it. Sell it, close it, anything at all.”  
Vegeta contemplated this for a moment before sliding the folio toward him. Yeah. Alright. What the hell.


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta, meet Goku.

Vegeta stands in front of the storefront that holds his new business. He frowns, glancing down at a clipboard containing the finalization of the property transfer. Well, this is it. No going back now. 

Vegeta had always wanted to own his own business. He would build his own empire independent of Frieza and his iron grip and ice-cold heart. He just hadn't expected it to be… This. Oh well. It may pay less than his job with DB Enterprises did, but it will give him more control. He can build it up and then move on to bigger and better things. 

A small red car pulls into the parking lot and stops next to Vegeta’s Mercedes. The man who steps out walks straight for Vegeta and sticks out his hand. “Goku Son. I’m the assistant manager.”  
Vegeta stares down at the proffered hand and raises an eyebrow. _I guess I better at least be civil with my employees_ , he thinks, _lest they all decide to leave and I’m left with a business I have no clue how to run._  
He takes Goku’s hand and shakes it once, firmly. “I am Vegeta,” he says. “I assume you’ve been informed that I now own this… establishment.”  
Goku nods. “Yes, sir. I was saddened to hear about Frieza’s passing.”  
_I wasn’t,_ Vegeta thinks darkly. _I almost jumped for joy._  
Goku continues, “I never saw him much. He was technically the manager, I guess, but he never hired anyone outright to run the store. He mostly left that to me. I guess he had a lot of other businesses to tend to.”  
_Other businesses, indeed_ , Vegeta thinks.

Goku leads Vegeta inside; the shop is closed now, the day being Sunday and the time past 6:30. “So, do you have any big plans for this place?” Goku asks as he unlocks the door. “Kami told me you were planning on being pretty hands-on with it.”  
Vegeta looked around as they stepped inside. It was spacious; there was a lounge area with a couple of plush chairs, a restaurant seating area with 8 or so tables, and the counter itself which was set up simply but functionally. “How many are employed here?” Vegeta responded. 

Goku thought for a moment, then counted on his fingers. “Well there’s me. I’m both assistant manager and a shift supervisor. I work full-time every week day, and then we have Piccolo who’s the shift supervisor on the weekends. Our full-time Baristas are Tien and Krillin, and then Chiaotzu who’s part-time. And Yajirobe, who doesn’t really do a lot but will fill in for a shift if someone calls in sick. Let me show you the employee records.” He opened the office door. “I’m looking at hiring on a few more because we’re pretty under-staffed at the moment. Frieza had a few employees he personally hired but they all left after he passed. I had to cut back our hours of operation in the meantime.” 

Vegeta nods, absent-mindedly running a hand along the weathered door frame. He takes the employee files that Goku hands to him. “I’m going to have to do a lot of renovating,” he mutters. The space has too much potential to be left as it is. “Who is Kakarot?” Vegeta interrupts Goku, who is in the process of running through numbers for the last several months. 

“My legal first name, but Goku is fine,” Goku says. "It's what my friends call me."

Vegeta stares him down. “As I was saying, Kakarot, there are several changes that I would like made. I’m going to close the shop for two months, but I don’t want to go through the trouble of hiring new workers. Please inform your employees their jobs will be here when I re-open.”

Goku frowns. “Um,” he begins, trying to find the best way to protest. “That’s a generous offer, but-” 

“But what?” Vegeta growls. “The numbers you’ve read me are pitiful. This place should have much higher traffic for the area it’s in, and the decor looks like it came straight from last century. And not in a good way.” 

“It’s just that this is the only job that many of them have. It’s the only way that they can support themselves. Tien and Krillin are good guys, and I’d hate to see them scrambling for work. We’re kind of like a family here, you know?”

Vegeta scowls. Family means nothing to him. The only “family” he had ever been a part of was Frieza’s, and the sort of family loyalty the lot of them showed had left a bitter, bitter taste in Vegeta’s mouth. But at the same time, the decade he had spent out from underneath Frieza’s thumb had proven to him that sometimes the world could be an okay place. Perhaps he could use some of them in the meantime. As for their making a living, well. He knew what it was like to be suddenly jobless and scrambling for any way to support yourself. He wouldn't wish such a fate on the average person. “Okay,” he concedes after several moments of thought. “One month of paid leave and two weeks paid training. But they're on their own for the other two weeks.”

Goku visibly deflates with relief. He didn't expect Vegeta to give in so easily or so generously, especially given Kami’s description of him and after hearing all the stories. 

“You, on the other hand, I will keep busy for the entirety of the closing,” Vegeta continues. “I will need your expert opinion for design choices and machinery upgrades.” Delegation had never been his strong suit, but even he has to admit that he’s in over his head with this one. “I plan to close in two weeks to give everyone time to make arrangements.” 

More than happy to be so included in the planning process, Goku nods. “If I may make a suggestion, I would advise that Piccolo be let in on the decision-making. He’s really got a head for all this stuff.” 

Vegeta admires Goku’s boldness in speaking up. He’s annoyed at his presumptuousness but decides not to fault him for it. Vegeta will never, ever admit it out loud, but in this one thing he's more than happy to follow somebody else’s lead. At least for the first little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am taking ideas for what the cafe might have been called under Frieza's ownership, and what Vegeta or Goku might rename it. Also, if you have any ideas for clever menu items, let me know!


	3. Setbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on designing a menu selection. If you've got a clever idea for a drink or bakery item, let me know in the comments!

Vegeta fiddles with the ribbon ceremonially blocking the entrance to the newly-renamed Z Cafe (it’s not what Vegeta would have chosen, but he figured that Goku had more of a stake in it anyway since he clearly intended to stick around and run the place a lot longer than Vegeta did). Only two days remain before the doors open and the hordes arrive, and his inner perfectionist needs everything to go perfectly. He unlocks the door to let himself in and have some time to enjoy the calm before the storm.

Training ended yesterday. Goku and Piccolo personally oversaw that all the baristas were familiar with the new equipment, and Goku spent a solid week with Vegeta alone. They came up with a training system, an updated handbook, and a comprehensive coffee guide. They renamed menu items, added new ones, and even contracted to a local bakery to provide upgraded food offerings. The new equipment included a baking oven so that the pre-proofed pastries could be made fresh each morning. 

Now, Vegeta sits in the empty cafe, a freshly brewed mug of pour-over warming his hands. A clattering at the door causes him to glance up sharply, all muscles tensed. It's a miracle the coffee doesn't spill. He exhales a pent-up breath when he sees Goku and Piccolo letting themselves in. They’re the ones who will handle the floor the first week after opening. After the initial crowds die down, Vegeta will jump in and manage from the front lines rather than from the office. The prospect of it keeps him up at night wondering why he left a cushy office job for this. He’ll be a glorified coffee drone. But there’s no turning back now. 

Vegeta ignores the supervisors as he goes over the schedule for opening day. He’d be here for it to observe and make sure everything ran smoothly. Goku and Piccolo had been showing up a lot lately while Vegeta tries to work, but aside from minor bickering they mostly keep to themselves as they do whatever it is those in supervisory roles do before a grand opening. 

This time, though, something seems different. It’s too damn quiet. Vegeta rolls his chair halfway into the hallway to see what’s going on. Goku and Piccolo sit atop the bar stools situated by the long countertop that will separate the masses from the coffee. Goku’s head lays in his arms on the counter, and Piccolo sits beside him looking concerned. And if Piccolo is showing emotion, Vegeta knows he has reason to panic.  
“There an issue?” Vegeta ventures in an effort toward his new resolve of ‘being amiable with his employees’.   
Piccolo glances sharply up at him, and Vegeta realizes they didn’t know he was here. He’d parked his car out back where it was hidden from view. They make eye contact, Piccolo’s stern face now devoid of all emotion. He tilts his head while glancing sideways at Goku, who seems to be in distress. Piccolo leans down and mutters something to Goku that Vegeta can’t hear, then makes his way over to Vegeta’s office.  
“A close family member was just diagnosed with an aggressive cancer and is having emergency surgery on the same day we open,” Piccolo confides quietly. Vegeta swears he can hear a slight waver to his voice. “He’s been a nervous wreck since he found out this morning.”   
A stab of concern pierces Vegeta’s consciousness, followed quickly by panic. He _needs_ Goku. Then his pride flares, and he thinks to himself, _No. I will do this without Kakarot. He’ll just be a mess and will underperform anyway._ He nods, new resolve filling him from within. “Let him do what he must. I will take his place.”   
If Piccolo is surprised, it doesn’t show. “Do you want to tell him that, or shall I?”   
Vegeta contemplates that for a moment. What would he even say to Kakarot? Something insensitive, probably, and that definitely doesn’t fit with the whole ‘don’t drive away the employees before the shop opens’ mantra he repeats to himself after long, frustrating days dealing with overly chipper baristas. “You’d better do it,” he decides, and promptly rolls his chair back into the office to freak out about this added stress in private. 

After Goku and Piccolo leave, Vegeta emerges into the emptiness of the cafe. He finds himself hoping that the surgery goes well because then that will mean Goku coming back to work, which in turn means less immediate responsibility on Vegeta. And okay, he doesn’t like it when innocent people have to die. When he broke free from Frieza’s grip, that was the first thing he tried to train himself out of. It took months before he could enter a space and quit mentally figuring out how he would kill everyone present, and months after that to stop laughing to himself when he heard news reports of tragedies like mass shootings or earthquakes. Vegeta wouldn’t describe himself as a good person, not really, but at least he wasn’t an evil son of a bitch either. He resolved never to be like Frieza or the sick henchman that Vegeta had once thought of as brothers. 

\---

When Piccolo returns later that evening, he finds at least a dozen haphazardly poured lattes lined up on the bar, with Vegeta working on the thirteenth. There’s milk all over the counter, three espresso shots at various rates of decay sitting under the machine, and a very disgruntled Vegeta in the midst of it all. Vegeta frowns as he concentrates on a simple rosetta design in the foam of his latte, but he knows that the texture isn’t right (too many large bubbles) and it winds up looking like a complete mess.   
“How am I supposed to do this all day with everyone demanding my attention?” he nearly shouts. “Kakarot had this technique perfected in a day, and I’ve been attempting it for weeks!” The anger rolls off him in waves and the tension is giving him a headache.

Piccolo wordlessly sets a bottle of rum on the counter, opens it, and pours himself and Vegeta each a double. He sips on his while he surveys the damage. “Goku has always had a natural ability,” he says. “He’s been winning latte art competitions since he’s been in the industry. I’ve gone up against him in multiple contests and he’s beaten me at every single one.” He sips again. “And I was raised with the business, too.” 

Vegeta scowls at the milk pitcher in an attempt to look at anything but Piccolo. Shame and pride quarrel within him. “If that’s an attempt at comfort, you’ll have to do better. Once I master this technique, then we’ll see who wins competitions.” He stands up straight and places his hands on his hips resolutely. “As soon as I survive opening day, I’ll become the best damned latte artist that this city has ever seen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://www.ratemyrosetta.com/latte-art-3078_S5P0xuH7.jpg) is what a rosetta looks like. It's the simplest design to learn, but there are a lot of things to take into consideration: the consistency of the foam (which is determined in the steaming process and is integral to good latte art), the quality of the crema on top of the espresso shot, and the speed at which one pours the milk into the espresso. 
> 
> I like to imagine that Vegeta is overzealous on all counts, which causes his milk to have large bubbles, his espresso not to be poured well, and his milk probably poured way too fast. He'll have to learn discipline and patience, and I think Piccolo might be the perfect person for that.


	4. Opening Day

For its first day, the Z Cafe opens at eight in the morning. Vegeta and Piccolo each plan to stay for the duration of the opening hours to make sure everything runs smoothly. It’ll be a long haul. For the first shift of the day, Chiaotzu and Tien work the cash register and food orders in tandem, each moving around each other with practiced ease as they complete preparations before the doors open.

With trepidation and excitement tangling up with each other in Vegeta’s gut, he realizes that his advertising efforts have paid off; there is a sizeable lineup outside the door, all waiting for their discounted-until-noon cups of coffee and breakfast items. Piccolo notes that there are a lot of regulars present who have been waiting for this day, and their loyalty is something universal that Vegeta can appreciate. He sends Yajirobe - who begrudgingly agreed to do at least some work today with their being short a Goku - out to pass out the new menus to eager customers. 

The clock finally ticks to 8:00 and Vegeta approaches the door. This was meant to be Goku’s job; his friendly and cheerful demeanor was much more suited to greeting the masses than Vegeta’s normally dour expression. He forces a smile onto his face and opens the doors, ushering in the lineup that now extends all the way down the storefront and doubles back once. It’s going to be a long day.

\---

It’s on this first day of opening that Vegeta realizes why he really, really hates people. Once the rush finally dies down a little bit after two o’clock, Vegeta steps away from the bar to survey the damage. Yamcha, the new hire that Goku brought on when the cafe was closed, sweeps the restaurant area clean of all manner of straw wrappers (the garbage is RIGHT THERE, PEOPLE!), cups, and crumbs. The scene gives Vegeta a whole new appreciation for the importance of tidying up after oneself. 

Vegeta sends Chiaotzu and Tien home at quarter past three. Krillin and Piccolo take bar while Vegeta takes the register. At four o’clock, surprisingly, Goku walks in. He’s tired and haggard-looking, and he has a pretty but concerned dark-haired woman in tow. “Well?” Vegeta asks, baffled as to why Goku would even bother showing up at this point. 

“I wanted to make sure everything is going okay. I could probably hop in for a bit if you needed me,” Goku explains. “The surgery went well and he’s just in recovery now. The waiting was the hardest part.”  
Vegeta looks back toward his baristas. “They’ll be fine. What would you like?”  
At his questions, the woman with Goku steps forward. “Two medium vanilla lattes, please,” she says. “For here.” She wraps one arm around Goku’s shoulders and pats him reassuringly.

As Goku and the mysterious woman who appears to be his girlfriend take a seat at the bar stools, Vegeta addresses the next customer in line. He’s holding a coffee cup with Z Cafe branding on it, and he looks pissed. Vegeta is not prepared to deal with angry customers on day one, and especially not after working nonstop with no breaks for hours on end. But before he can even get out a forced “Can I help you”, the customer launches into a tirade. He rants about there being too much foam, and this _not_ being what he paid for, and something about if this cafe wants to succeed it should hire competent baristas from day one. Vegeta recognizes him as a less-than-pleasant customer he handed a drink off to earlier, and who didn't give Vegeta so much as a thank you. “What would you like me to do about it?” Vegeta asks, sincere in intentions but sarcastic in delivery. In reply, he receives a face-full of lukewarm latte. 

Time slows down. Vegeta feels shocked eyes turn to them from all corners of the cafe. He sees red. “Why you little…!” he shouts, practically climbing over the counter to teach this whiny, entitled prick a lesson. He feels Piccolo pulling him back by the shirt, and the moment his feet make contact with the ground, he storms out from behind the counter. The utter rage that radiates from his being shifts the demeanor of the customer from pissed to scared witless. He’s got a good four inches on Vegeta, who gets right up into his face, but he cowers nonetheless.   
“If that had been one of my employees,” Vegeta growls menacingly so that only the customer can hear, “I’d have you arrested for assault. You’ll find yourself lucky that I’m the owner of this establishment. And perhaps you'll count your blessings because I am no longer the person I used to be.”  
The customer’s eyes widen at this revelation and he understands Vegeta’s meaning.  
“And if I ever find you have stepped foot in here again, there will be hell to pay,” Vegeta continues, then shouts, “Now _get! Out!_ ”  
The flustered customer mumbles an apology and stumbles toward the door of the cafe. “And don’t come back!” Vegeta yells after him. The blood rushing to his ears dissipates and he turns back toward the cafe. Everyone stares back at him, mouths agape. Goku’s girlfriend stands and applauds. The staff behind the bar follow suit, and Vegeta realizes with relief that there are no other customers present. 

At Goku’s suggestion, Vegeta takes a few minutes in the office and a cup of chamomile tea to calm down. His pride would normally prevent such retreat, but he’s too tightly-wound to argue. When he returns to the counter, it’s business as usual. Goku and Krillin joke around with one another with an easy camaraderie, Piccolo silently but speedily works through the drink orders on the bar for the customers that arrived while Vegeta was gone, and the hum of grinding beans fills the air. Vegeta is struck by how _normal_ all of this has become to him. It’s almost as if this is what he was meant to do. And he finds that he doesn't mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate any and all feedback - I do a read-over before I post, but other sets of eyes are always helpful.


	5. Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta has a sense of humor.

Vegeta emerges from his Monday morning office time to find his cafe alive with chatter. Chi-Chi, Goku’s girlfriend, is in her usual lunch-time spot next to a blue-haired woman Vegeta doesn’t recognize. He slips behind the bar to make himself a caffe macchiato while it’s still quiet - a glance at the clock tells him that the hordes will be arriving any moment now - before taking the empty seat on Chi-Chi’s other side. He rubs the last remnants of sleep from his eyes and watches Krillin pour a perfect flat white. That’s when he notices a jar of pickles sitting on the counter behind the bar. 

Krillin notices Vegeta noticing the pickles. “Those are for Piccolo,” he says and turns the jar to show Vegeta a label that says “Piccolo Sr.” on it. “It’s because of his name and his green hair,” Krillin explains when Vegeta’s confusion becomes evident. “It’s sort of a running joke.” 

“I thought we were going to start selling pickle-flavored lattes,” Vegeta mutters. “I was going to have to intervene.” 

Krillin laughs out loud and Vegeta realizes that he just made an unintentional joke. He smirks and relishes in that fact; it feels good to be found humorous. “You think I’m joking,” he says solemnly, “But pickle juice and milk do NOT go well together. We’d curled all the milk and drive all our customers away.” 

“I don’t know, Vegeta,” Chi-Chi says, “Some people have really weird taste. You might’ve just stumbled onto the next big thing in the coffee world.” She laughs when Vegeta sticks his tongue out in disgust. 

“If you want to try it, by all means, go ahead.” He smirks in return when Chi-Chi vehemently denies the opportunity. 

“But Bulma here might want to give it a go!” Chi-Chi suggests and leans out of the way so Vegeta can get his first clear look at the blue-haired woman on her other side. 

Bulma frowns. “Just because I like cheese and pickle sandwiches does not mean I would like a pickle latte,” she says. “I’ll have to agree with Vegeta here, that’s just wrong.” 

Vegeta quirks an eyebrow at her familiarity with him. He’s never seen her around before, but her name rings a bell; perhaps Goku mentioned her in passing in the last few weeks. “Cheese and pickle sandwiches?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. “What is the matter with you people?” 

Bulma throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “Why does everyone make fun of my food choices? I mean, yeah, okay, I could have normal food, but when I’m working I don’t want to eat a steak or something, I just want a damn sandwich!” 

Vegeta chugs the last of his macchiato and tosses the cup in the trash. “That’s what ham and cheese sandwiches are for,” he says before tying his apron around his waist and getting to work on the business end of the bar. 

Chi-Chi and Bulma chat about the mundane goings-on in their lives and Vegeta loses interest in listening and focuses his attentions on his newest latte art endeavor. This one consists of a rosetta at it’s core with heart embellishments all around it. It’s quite a step up in skill level, but Vegeta has never been one to take the easy learning curve. Then he gets an idea. After a couple of failed attempts that don’t resemble anything at all, he pours his concept into foamy reality. Vegeta smugly presents his creation to Bulma just as she appears to be getting ready to leave.

“What’s this?” Bulma asks, peering curiously at the strange design in the foam.

“It’s a pickle,” Vegeta says proudly and with an evil little grin, pointing to the oblong shape with little dots running down it. “Now go and make yourself a proper sandwich.” 

\--- 

Chi-Chi returns at closing time with Goku in tow. “Hey, Vegeta!” Goku calls to him as Vegeta locks up. “A few of us are going out for drinks tonight, you wanna come?”

Vegeta freezes with his hand on the key. He’s never been invited to anything social before. He knows that the baristas sometimes get together after work and do whatever it is people do in their free time (for Vegeta, that’s working out almost to the point of obsession), but they've never included him in their activities. He gives off a very antisocial vibe when he doesn't have his customer service face on. But what harm could there be in indulging in leisure time with fellow associates? It would definitely be in his interests as their boss to know what goes on in their lives. 

Promising himself that he’ll only have one drink, he turns toward them and shrugs. “I guess so,” he agrees, doing everything in his power not to let on that it feels nice to be included.

Vegeta declines the offer of a ride, further solidifying his resolve not to overdrink. He arrives last; everyone already has a spot at a long table situated near the back of the pub. He picks his way through the overcrowded areas between tables, dodging servers and patrons who can't hold their liquor. Nobody from the group has spotted him yet and he observes as everyone engages in animated conversation. Vegeta realizes that the only empty seat is between Krillin and… Is that Bulma? The dim light makes it hard to see but as Vegeta approaches the table, his suspicions are confirmed. 

Everyone seems so at ease with one another that Vegeta senses they share an almost family-like bond with each other. Even Bulma, whom Vegeta has never seen before today, seems to be at home among them. And it’s Bulma who notices him there first. 

“Vegeta!” She calls out, breaking him out of his thoughts and temporarily assuaging his anxious fears that he shouldn't be here, that he doesn't belong. “Come sit! We brought over an extra chair for you.” 

The woman seems so unbearably _chipper_ that Vegeta is unsure if he can handle her upbeat attitude for the rest of the evening. Without his normal avenue of venting his frustration via intense sweating on this particular night, he still feels the pent-up stress building within him from a long day of human interaction. Nonetheless, it would be incredibly rude not to take the proffered seat, and Vegeta decides that avoiding causing offence is worth subjecting himself to annoyingly happy people for one evening. 

The waitress takes a while to notice Vegeta, but he feels content to feign contemplating the drink menu rather than joining in the conversation. Two large plates of nachos arrive, one at each end of the table. The server also sets down a small bowl of shrimp next to Bulma, who proceeds to put them on her portion of nachos. Vegeta, who decidedly hates seafood, nearly gags at the very notion of fish nachos. Thankfully, the waitress finally notices an extra body at the table and sashays over to distract him and take his order of a pint of whatever lager they have on tap. 

Vegeta stares at his hands as he waits for his beer. Bulma dominates the conversation to his left, while to his right, Krillin doesn't say much at all. Vegeta senses fear in him, puts it down to being nervous about drinking around and socializing with his boss, and promptly does absolutely nothing to make him feel better. 

There’s a lull in the conversation as everybody stuffs their faces, evidently starving. Bulma, realizing that Vegeta has neither said more than two words to anyone nor eaten any nachos, shoves her plate in front of him. “I don't know what these morons told you, but these nachos are group nachos and if you're at the table you have to partake.” 

Vegeta stares down at the nachos which, while perfectly cheesy, are far too shrimpy for his liking (his ideal amount of shrimp being None whatsoever). “I'm lactose intolerant,” he deadpans. 

Bulma lifts an eyebrow at him. “You work in a coffee shop,” she says. “You drink lattes all day.”

“Well, you have managed to destroy the one sacred food I hold dear in my life with your disgusting crustaceans,” Vegeta says. “So I'm good.” 

Bulma shrugs. “Whatever, more for me,” she says, shoving an unladylike amount of nachos into her mouth. 

Vegeta recoils a bit; for someone so beautiful, this woman certainly is vulgar. Then his beer arrives and distracts him from the nacho bastardization currently in progress next to him. He sips and listens to the snippets of conversation going on around him: Tien telling Chi-Chi and Goku a stupid joke from earlier that day, Krillin declining a second helping of nachos under the claim of watching his figure - to much laughter, and Piccolo grumbling when Goku leans over and wraps him up in a big hug, much to his chagrin. It feels comfortable, like they've been through a lot together that Vegeta doesn't know about. As the night progresses, he finds himself warming up to the idea of being in their company

And despite himself, he might be having a good time.


	6. Introspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta does a little bit of thinking. And a little bit of not-thinking, too.

Despite being out way past his bedtime, Vegeta arrives at the shop the next morning earlier than anyone else. He powers up the coffee machines and turns on the light above the bar, where he sits with his arms crossed as he wills the hot water to heat up faster. He woke up agitated, he can't figure out why, and that fact agitates him even more. When the green light finally comes on, he sits his cup under the spout, pours two shots over ice and knocks them back before proceeding with his normal caffe macchiato. With the addition of a snack from the day-olds, Vegeta slowly begins to feel human again. The sunrise peeks its orange and pink rays through the front windows and it looks like the weather might stay clear today. 

Goku arrives at six am to find that most of his opening tasks have already been completed. He finds Vegeta on his knees scrubbing the backs of the milk fridges for lack of tasks to complete but doesn’t say anything. If Vegeta wants to clean, let him clean.

As he scrubs the vents, Vegeta can't stop thinking about last night. Is this what being _normal_ feels like? He was included in the conversation. They invited him to their movie plans on Friday. Bulma had even said “See you around” afterward as though she looked forward to furthering his acquaintance, a concept completely foreign in Vegeta’s experience. Even at the office nobody had ever invited Vegeta to their beer nights; his grumpy demeanor had made it clear he wasn't there to make friends. He's certain they only kept him around because his work ethic was exceptional (one of the only things he’ll ever thank Frieza for) and they were hard-pressed to lose him. It’s only been a few months since then, and he’s sure he can’t have changed _that_ much.

 

Vegeta shakes his head. He can't get too close. The plan was to get the shop where he wanted it, leave Goku in charge, and cut it loose. Sell it to the highest bidder, move on to bigger and better things. Make a proper life for himself. But priorities change. It feels so good to be included, and he feels aeons away from the person he used to be under Frieza. 

“Kakarot,” Vegeta addresses Goku, who turns to him expectantly. “These drink nights, do they happen weekly?” 

Goku shrugs. “Not every week, but definitely a couple of times a month. Why, you interested in coming again?” 

Vegeta scowls. For somebody who can be really dense sometimes, Goku seems pretty quick on the uptake when it comes to Vegeta. “No, I was just-” crap. How is he going to excuse this one? “I was just curious, that’s all,” he says lamely. “I don’t know how you stay out so late when you have to work so early in the morning.” As if on cue, a yawn punctuates his statement and he reaches for his second macchiato of the morning. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be in my office for a bit.” 

\---

Several hours and a quick power nap later, Vegeta steps out of his office to find Bulma sitting at the bar again. He freezes in the hallway, unsure if he should say anything to her or if he should just go back to work and treat her like he would any other customer. As he wonders why he’s even debating himself on that particular point, Goku catches his eye and grins at him in greeting. Bulma turns around out of reflex and smiles as well. There's no escaping her now. 

“Come sit!” Bulma beckons Vegeta, indicating the empty seat beside her. “Unless you have to get back to work, that is,” she adds wryly at Vegeta’s unintentional deer-in-the-headlights look. The empty cafe means that Goku is fine on his own for now, and the assistant manager says as much when Vegeta eyes him pleadingly.

Now that he has no way out, Vegeta sits gingerly next to Bulma, who immediately begins relating a story to him and Goku about some work-related thing or another. Vegeta hardly pays attention to her words, only to the sound of her voice as it becomes even more animated and excitable than he remembered it being last night. She sounds so… alive. Vegeta snaps out of his thoughts when Goku sets a freshly made macchiato in front of him. 

“So,” Bulma says, turning to address him when a customer catches Goku’s attention. “Tell me about yourself. You hardly said a peep last night! Where are you from? What’s your story?”

“Excuse me?” Vegeta asks, taken aback by her bluntness. He has already deduced this trait about her, but having it directed toward him thusly is a whole new concept. It’s not like he’d tell her, anyway. What would he say? _Oh, I was among the inner circle of the city’s most notorious crime boss _or _I was orphaned when I was seven, taken in by someone I didn't know not to trust and was subsequently deprived of a proper childhood because I shot my first man at nine and killed my first at thirteen _? Hardly.____

____“Yeah,” Bulma continues, “Like, before you inherited this coffee shop, what did you do with yourself?”_ _ _ _

____“I was a lower-tier executive at DB Enterprises,” Vegeta finally volunteers. “They’re an engineering and architecture firm.”_ _ _ _

____“I think I've heard of it,” Bulma says, lifting an eyebrow. There’s a knowing gleam in her eye that tells Vegeta she knows more than she’s letting on. “And how did you know the previous owner of this cafe, anyway? Goku says he was hardly around and I’ve never met the guy.”_ _ _ _

____Vegeta looks down at his coffee, uncomfortable. “I knew him a long time ago,” he mumbles. He suddenly feels very eager to put the spotlight elsewhere. “What about you?” he asks, shifting the focus to Bulma._ _ _ _

____“What about me?” Bulma replies coyly._ _ _ _

____“What’s _your_ story?”_ _ _ _

____“I'm a designer,” she says simply. “I work with my dad.”_ _ _ _

____Vegeta tilts his head at her as a thought occurs to him. “How did you know I inherited this shop?”_ _ _ _

____Bulma, with a sly smile, just nods. “I know everything that goes on in this place,” she says, “Always have. Goku’s been here since the beginning and we’ve known each other for years. He’s practically my brother.”_ _ _ _

____Vegeta thinks of the people he grew up with who were the only ‘brothers’ he knew. He thinks about how they would have killed him in an instant if it were Frieza’s bidding. “Must be nice,” he mutters, just about too quiet to be heard._ _ _ _

____“I never had a real family.”_ _ _ _

____And before Bulma can express any of the sympathy he’s come to know and despise over the years, he slips off the stool. He promised himself he wouldn’t open up to anyone about his past after the last time he got too drunk and his lips got too loose, and yet here he was, sober and out of excuses._ _ _ _

____“I should be getting back to work.”_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____Vegeta spends the rest of his shift in quiet contemplation. The rhythm of steaming milk, pouring espresso shots, and calling drinks out gives him far too much time to think._ _ _ _

____Bulma, for all her annoying chattiness, leaves him alone after their conversation. She says goodbye to Goku and leaves not long after tossing her empty coffee cup away, throwing a backward glance at Vegeta as she walks out the door._ _ _ _

____Vegeta pretends not to notice. He lets out a massive yawn and his lack of proper sleep catches up to him all at once; he glances at the clock and realizes he's been here for _ten hours_. It's three pm and he really, really wants to nap. _ _ _ _

____Gathering his things, Vegeta informs Goku that he’s leaving and makes his way out to his car. He's too tired to drive but he desperately wants to be in his apartment with the blinds shut and his brain off. He’ll take a shortcut home; the back road around the Capsule Corp. compound cuts at least three traffic lights from his route and the scenery will be a nice break from the monotony of city driving. He turns the radio up and roars out of the parking lot._ _ _ _

____Having taken this route so many times before, Vegeta mentally checks out as soon as he turns off the main road. He accelerates, knowing that the back lane will be deserted at this time of day. As the trees rush by, Vegeta considers his plans for the rest of the afternoon. After his nap, he'll head to the gym to make up for missing his workout yesterday. After that, he’ll treat himself to takeout from the gym’s in-house restaurant (the one that serves protein-heavy dishes that are absolutely heavenly, not the weird little smoothie bar that passes grass pulp off as something appealing to drink) and maybe watch a movie. It’ll be a nice… relaxing… evening._ _ _ _

____Too late, Vegeta’s brain registers the bend in the road and his world careens in circles around him before everything goes abruptly and maddeningly still._ _ _ _


	7. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta doesn't know what friendship is or how people express it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a longer chapter for you all today. All thoughts are appreciated!

After slamming on the brakes and subsequently losing control of his vehicle, Vegeta sits white-knuckled and shaking behind the wheel as it drifts to a stop. The airbag lies deflated before him. What took five seconds feels like ten years and he tries to pry his hands away to give himself a once-over. 

Bleeding? Nope. Car intact? Yep. What’s that noise? Oh, breathing. Hard. Heart rate? Through the roof. Before his mind catches up to his body he’s out the door, on the ground on his hands and knees - nauseated but thankfully, blessedly _alive_. In those short-long terrifying moments when Vegeta’s life flashed before his eyes, all his choices were laid bare before him. His mistakes, his failures. Leaving behind the only life he’d ever known. Starting a new life, turning over a new leaf. 

Vegeta becomes vaguely aware of the purring of another engine entering his vicinity. A shadow falls across him and he can’t look up, not yet, not till the waves of nausea pass him by. 

“Are you okay?” a concerned and familiar voice asks, the owner of the shadow crouching down and putting her hand on his back. She helps him stand, supports him when he wobbles, and turns him to face her. She looks like an angel. 

“Are you okay?” Bulma repeats when Vegeta stares at her in a daze. She runs her fingers over his forehead and peers into his eyes, checking for signs of concussion. There are none, thank goodness, but his behaviour still troubles her. 

Vegeta nods almost imperceptibly, his attention already turning elsewhere. He runs his hand along the Mercedes and trails around its front, checking for any signs of damage. His gaze follows the tracks his accident put into the field and he’s surprised to note just how far the car slid through the grass before coming to its current resting spot. “Damn,” he whispers. At least the car got away unscathed.

“Come on, you,” Bulma says, pulling him back toward the road. “Let’s get you to my place and have a look at you.” 

“I really need to get home and sleep,” Vegeta protests half-heartedly. Her hand feels _really nice_ holding his, he notes in passing. Then, “Hey, is that _your_ car?” The passenger door slides upward to let Vegeta in, and it feels like he’s still dreaming when he melts into the plush seat. Except, instead of a terrifying nightmare, his dreamscape has morphed into something _really freaking awesome_. 

“Yeah,” Bulma replies as she gets in the driver’s side of the Lamborghini Gallardo. “I was just bringing it back from having it detailed.” To Vegeta, she seems almost sheepish about the whole thing. 

With his mind feeling more than a little foggy after the strange combination of caffeine, lack of sleep, and rush of adrenalin, Vegeta barely pays attention as they pull up to Bulma’s place and she leads him inside. She directs him to a neatly made twin bed and instructs that he get some rest. 

When Vegeta awakens who-knows-how-long later, there’s a glass of water and a sandwich on the bedside table next to him and Bulma is nowhere to be found. Sitting up with a grunt, he checks his watch - 6:43 pm. So much for going to the gym before dinner. He eyes the sandwich suspiciously, pulling apart the strange artisan bread and expecting to find pickle slices. Instead, he finds regular ham and cheese and is vastly relieved. He takes a bite and pulls his phone out of his pocket. There are nine texts, all from Goku. All asking if he’s okay. All in various states of panic. 

“I’M FINE,” Vegeta texts back. Then, “I’m assuming Bulma told you what happened.” He sighs and swings his legs off the bed. Speaking of Bulma, she’s nowhere to be found. Vegeta tentatively calls her name into the emptiness of the quaint guest house. No response. He takes a drink of the water and absentmindedly notes that it tastes way better than the filtered water in his condo. 

When Bulma returns, she finds Vegeta sitting quietly at the kitchen table, playing on his phone. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she greets him softly. “Feeling a bit better?” 

Vegeta shrugs and gives a noncommittal grunt, taking a few moments to look up at her. 

“Glad to hear it,” Bulma continues, more than happy to talk at him rather than to him. “I went and got your car, by the way. It’s surprisingly no worse for wear, but I gave it a quick tune-up anyway.” 

A flash of concern passes across Vegeta’s face. That car is his _baby_ and so help him if she did anything to it-

“Don’t worry, I’m a certified auto technician. I work on my own cars all the time.”

“I thought you said you were a designer,” Vegeta counters. 

“I have many talents.” The look that Bulma gives him makes Vegeta shift awkwardly in his seat. There’s that expression again, like there’s something she’s not letting on. He’d really like to know what it is.

“I should really get going,” Vegeta starts, “I have to get dinner.” 

“Why don’t you stay? I can whip something up, if you’d like,” Bulma offers, making Vegeta wonder just why she’s being so damn _nice_ to him. 

He needs to get out of here as quickly as possible because his ego can only stand so much mortification. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he mutters. “And… I don’t know what you told Kakarot to make him blow up my phone, but if you could maybe not divulge all the details. I’ll owe you.” The last part pains him to admit. His pride doesn’t like him owing anything to anybody.

“I only told him I found you on the side of the road looking a little shell-shocked. He’s a little over reactive sometimes.” Bulma reassures him. “And please, don’t mention it. I like to think you’d have done the same.” 

As he leaves, Vegeta ponders her last statement. Had their roles been reversed, would he have taken care of Bulma the way she took care of him? Wouldn’t he have just called an ambulance, made sure she wasn’t dead, and let the professionals handle it? He wouldn’t have cared so much about somebody he barely knows.

Would he have?

\---

To buy her silence, or thank her for her help (or both), Vegeta decides to Bulma a bouquet of roses. He strolls into work the next day, much to Goku’s shock, and summons him to his office. “I need to know Bulma’s address,” he states matter-of-factly. 

Goku grins. “Going to pop in for a visit? Going to proclaim your undying loyalty to her as part of your life debt?”  
Vegeta scowls. “No. Nothing so stupid. But I don’t like to let a debt go unpaid, so I’m sending her a bouquet of roses, _idiot_.” He spits the last word out as if his plan were obvious. Girls love roses, so of course this is the most appropriate course of action.

Goku’s expression changes into something Vegeta can’t quite read. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he agrees, an air of mischievousness about him. “How silly of me.” He takes a pad of paper and a pen from Vegeta’s desk and scribbles down the address.

Vegeta sits down to call a florist while Goku returns to the floor. When he recites the address on the phone, the florist asks, “Wait, isn’t that the Capsule Corp compound?” Vegeta double-checks the address and frowns. “Uh, hold for a moment please,” he says. Then, “Kakarot!!” 

Goku pops his head back into the office moments later. “...Yes?” he asks, unsure of what he’s done to incur Vegeta’s wrath. 

“Is this the address for Capsule Corp?” 

“Um, yes?” Goku responds, not sure where this is going. 

“I wanted Bulma’s _home_ address, not her place of work.”

“Oh,” Goku says. “You don’t know, do you.” It’s more a statement than a question.

“Know _what_?”

“Bulma is Dr. Briefs’ daughter. She’s the heiress to Capsule Corporation.”

If Vegeta had taken a drink at that moment, he would have spit it right back out. “What!”

“Um. Yes,” Goku says, the mischievousness returning to further test Vegeta’s patience.

Vegeta turns back to the phone, muttering, “Well I guess that explains the Lamborghini.” He picks the receiver back up and takes it off hold. “Yes, the address is correct. Please send them to Bulma Briefs at Capsule Corp.” 

“That’s two dozen red roses to Bulma Briefs of Capsule Corp. Your order comes with a vase and a card. What would you like that to say?” 

Oh, right. “Put… let’s see, ‘Thanks for everything.’”

“And your name, sir?” 

“Vegeta. Please send the bill to the Z Cafe.”

After setting up an account with the florist, and a promised delivery of 3pm that same day, Vegeta finally hangs up the phone. He really, really doesn’t like phone conversations. Satisfied that Bulma won’t hold his accident over his head, he leaves the office and takes his place behind the bar. He’s definitely needs to go to the gym tonight. 

\---

In the middle of his cardio warmup, Vegeta’s cell phone rings. He glances down at the display to see a number he doesn’t recognize.  
“Hello?” he answers, somewhat reluctantly. Why can’t people just text him in this modern day and age?

“Vegeta!” a familiar and far too chipper voice shouts on the other end of the phone.

“Bulma? How did you get my number?” Vegeta asks, holding the phone a considerable distance from his ear. The guy working out next to him gives him a strange look but turns away frightened when Vegeta glares at him. 

“Goku.” 

Of course. 

“I just wanted to thank you for the beautiful roses! You really didn't have to.” 

“You’re... welcome.” Vegeta has never been much for phone conversations, especially ones with a gorgeous woman on the other end.

“Are you alright? You sound out of breath.” 

“I'm at the gym.”

“Oh, alright then. I’ll let you get back to it. See you tomorrow, probably. Bye!”

Vegeta sighs when she hangs up, glad to be rid of the awkward, mostly one-sided conversation. Having never encountered someone who seems to want to be his friend before, he's not entirely sure how to proceed. Does he tell her that he doesn't make friends? Does he move to another city and assume a new identity, so that even with her father’s fortune, she’ll never be able to find him again? Does he call her back and make plans to go out for dinner?

Deciding that friendship and the work that comes with it are not worth the headache tonight, Vegeta puts all his focus into reaching his workout goals. Tonight, he’s going to bench 225 lbs, take a shower, buy himself that nice dinner he's been thinking about, and go home for a quiet evening. His plans include thinking about anything but Bulma and her annoying, outgoing personality and her unfortunately adorable face. Especially the latter, which he is doing his best not to notice. 

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the texts that Goku sent to Vegeta [here on my tumblr](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com/post/150746610242)!


	8. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for your patience as I finished writing this chapter. I had a few days' interruption because I moved to a new place, but we have our internet and everything set up so I'll be back on schedule. I made this chapter a little bit longer than the others to (hopefully) make up for the wait. Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Burn

“You coming out with us tomorrow night?” Chi-chi asks. “We’re going out to dinner and then to Bulma’s for a movie in her home theatre.”

Vegeta, having forgotten all about the previously-extended invitation for Friday, shakes his head. “I’m going to stay in for the night. I work early Saturday, and I don’t want to be out late again. Throws my whole training regimen off.” 

Chi-chi shrugs. “Training for what, the Olympics?” she smirks. “But suit yourself. Bulma will be sad if you don't come, though.” 

Vegeta lifts an eyebrow but says nothing further, turning to help a customer as she approaches the till. 

Had Bulma mentioned him specifically? Does she see him as one of those people who need to be brought out of their shell? Because he’s perfectly happy to live as a veritable hermit, thank you very much.

Bulma herself arrives to pick Chi-chi up not twenty minutes later. She gives Vegeta a coy smile but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him as she discusses that evening’s plans with Chi-chi. It’s just as well, he has a lot of work to do. Like washing this dish. And wiping that counter for the third time in ten minutes. And making sure the coffee beans are replenished.   
“Vegeta?” Bulma interrupts his thoughts and hard, back-breaking work. 

Vegeta puts on his best “I’m busy” face and turns around. 

“Chi-chi says you’re not coming tomorrow.”

“Nope.” 

“Another time then?” Does her voice sound _hopeful_?

“Maybe.” 

Taking what she can get, Bulma nods decisively. “See you around,” she says, following Chi-chi out the door. 

Vegeta deflates, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he watches Bulma move out of view. Usually his maybes mean _no_ but this time, he thinks it might actually mean _maybe_. He would have gone tomorrow if he didn’t have to work so early on Saturday, after all. He turns back toward the bar to find Krillin and Goku giving him A Look.   
“What?” 

Goku shrugs. “Watching you two talk is kinda painful.” 

“I’m not much of a conversationalist,” Vegeta points out. Goku should know this, he’s been working with Vegeta for more than two months. “I barely know her and she’s trying to do friendship things with me. It’s weird.” 

“To be fair, she’s a very outgoing person. She’s managed to befriend everyone who works here, after all. It’s been pretty much the same crew ever since we opened, but she’s one of us in spirit.” 

“I think you’re over analyzing this,” Krillin adds. “It’s pretty simple. You give her flowers, she thinks you’re interested in furthering her acquaintance.” 

“You know about the flowers?” Vegeta asks, unsure of why his face has grown quickly and suddenly warm. “Did she tell you?” 

“She posted a picture of them on Instagram, dude,” Goku says. “Something about ‘letting someone crash at your place is probably the best reason to receive flowers’. Your name was on the card and there were hearts all over it.”

“Oh, no,” Vegeta groans. 

“Yeah, the hearts were a nice touch,” Krillin snickers, then shuts up when Vegeta raises a menacing eyebrow at him. 

“ _Red_ roses, a note card with hearts on it… you’re going to get people talking, man,” Goku grins. 

“Did I have options?” Vegeta asks, realization dawning on him that he has probably made a huge mistake. 

“Oh, totally,” Goku says. “I accidentally got Chi-chi yellow roses for our dating anniversary once. She got really mad and explained that when it’s a special occasion, you’re supposed to get red ones. They were really expensive, though, which is why I picked yellow. And the florist gives you all sorts of card options, too. There’re get well cards, romantic cards, plain cards-” 

Vegeta covers his face with his hands. “Now she probably thinks I want to get in her pants,” he moans in despair. “This is what I get for trying to do the socially acceptable thing.” 

“If it’s any consolation, she doesn’t like you like that,” Krillin informs him.

“Ouch, buddy,” Goku cringes at Krillin’s word choice. “He means that she knew you didn’t mean anything by them.” 

Vegeta, though, isn’t convinced. “Yet she posted them to her social media for the whole world to see.” 

“Girls love flowers, and she doesn’t really get them too often,” Goku says. 

“Isn’t she an heiress? You mean to tell me she doesn’t have suitors lining up out the door of Capsule Corp trying to marry into that money?” Vegeta asks incredulously. 

Goku shakes his head. “Nope, thankfully for her. Men find her very intimidating.” 

Krillin nods in agreement. “Very.” 

“How? She’s the most talkative thing in existence and you said it yourself, she likes to make friends.” 

“She makes friends with my friends,” Goku explains. “We run in the same circle because we’ve been best friends since we were children. But she’s a very assertive person and doesn’t take crap from anybody. So any guys that have interest are scared off pretty quickly once she runs them through the ringer.” 

“Whatever,” Vegeta frowns. “Just tell people there’s nothing going on if they ask. I don’t care about rumors but if she’s going to be hanging around so much, I don’t want to hear about it.” 

“Maybe you could get her some yellow roses instead with a ‘sorry I got you red ones’ card,” Krillin suggests. “Just to make sure everyone is on the same page.” 

“Or you could send her a cactus, and have the card say ‘sorry for my prickly personality,’” Goku adds cheekily. 

“Stop mocking me,” Vegeta orders. “Or I’ll put you both on baking duty.” He smirks when his threat makes them both back down. It’s one of the perks of being the boss, after all. 

\---

Closing time approaches quickly. Working 12-hour shifts is nothing new to Vegeta, but being on his feet constantly is exhausting. He wants to be an example, but the routine lets him live inside his head more than is healthy for someone like him. 

A good man that Vegeta once knew, however briefly, told him that a good leader puts in more hard work than anyone he leads. Something in Vegeta’s chest tightens around his heart as he thinks about the sad, cruel way the poor man met his demise at the end of a revolver. It’s a pang of regret, guilt, sorrow - something like that. Poor old man was trying to make Vegeta see that Frieza was using him for personal gain and nothing else, but Vegeta wasn’t having any of it.

The man was right, of course. 

Vegeta shakes his head, refocusing on tidying the fridges for tomorrow’s opener. Sometimes his past catches up to him in painful ways, and no matter how he tries to repress it, it returns to him again and again. 

The moment Vegeta gets home and locks his apartment door behind him, he decides he’s not going to live inside his head tonight. He turns on his sound system and blares his favorite get-pumped music, strips out of his work clothes, and drops into push-up. His warmup routine is usually enough to take his mind off of things, but today he will go full force. He counts to 150, then stops to take a drink of water. Next will come 75 sit-ups, 50 pull-ups, and then he’ll go to town on the punching bag. It’ll be a glorious night of sweat and the release of pent-up anger.   
\---

Vegeta wakes up with the sun. He groans and rolls over, his muscles protesting the action. His fists feel bruised, and no wonder - he might have ripped a hole in the punching bag last night. Today, he’ll let himself relax. After he goes for a run. 

When Vegeta returns from his six mile run, he downs a homemade protein shake. The outside air is brisk and turns his cheeks pink. Autumn is underway.

Dark eyes stare back at him from the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth. For the first time in weeks, there are no dark circles underneath them. And for the first time in months, he has a good feeling about the day ahead. He strips naked and steps into the tub.

Vegeta savors the hot water pounding against his sore muscles. He runs his fingers through his normally spiked hair, now water-laden and subdued. It feels _good_ , and he decides that today he can afford the luxury of a long shower. 

As he rinses bodywash from his back, a strange, insistent ringing makes itself heard over the sound of water hitting tile. Vegeta pokes his head around the shower curtain and tilts his head. Did he set an alarm and forget about it? Listening harder, realization dawns on him. He turns the water off and hops out of the shower, towelling his hair and trailing water into his bedroom. 

The fire alarm in the hallway blares its warning loudly. Vegeta wraps his towel around his waist, grabs his phone, briefcase, and go-bag from the closet by the door, and exits into the hallway. The alarm, situated down the hallway, is still piercingly loud in his ears and he cringes as he rushes past it to the nearest exit. He turns to glance back at his apartment before leaving to see smoke pouring out of the other exit doorway. 

“911, what is your emergency?”   
“My apartment’s on fire,” Vegeta huffs out. “The whole building, I mean.” He gives the address as he settles into the heated seat of his Mercedes. A towel doesn’t do squat for warmth, especially on damp skin in the still-cool morning air.   
“Thank you for calling. We have emergency crews on the way. Is there anybody still inside the building?”   
“I didn’t see anybody as I was leaving, but there’s a group gathered in the parking lot.” 

As the conversation ends, Vegeta stares up at the building as smoke escapes through open apartment windows. There go all his worldly possessions, not that he had much. He prefers a minimalist approach, anyway. Utilitarian, even. It’s a result of all the years living where Frieza told him to live, how Frieza told him to live, and what sort of life Frieza told him to live. Still, his things were his, and he had spent his hard-earned money on nice furniture.   
Thank goodness for insurance. 

\---

“Vegeta? I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Goku says as Vegeta saunters in and plops himself down on a stool. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you either, yet here we are,” Vegeta growls. “My apartment building caught fire, so I’m going to be staying at a hotel until I can find a new place.” 

The lack of emotion in Vegeta’s voice makes Goku stop to process what he just said. “Wait, what? How are you not more upset about this?” 

“I was just getting settled. I didn’t lose anything that can’t be replaced easily.” 

“No photographs? No art projects from when you were in kindergarten?”

“Have you met me, Kakarot? Do I _really_ seem like the sentimental type to you? I don’t hold on to things like that.” 

“I know hardly anything about you,” Goku points out. “You keep your personal life very guarded.” 

“Touche,” Vegeta concedes. 

“But don’t stay at a hotel, that’s expensive. You can crash at my place for a while.” 

“That’s not necessary-” Vegeta begins, before Goku cuts him off. 

“I have a second bedroom that I’m not using right now, and if you just paid for your own food it’d be a lot cheaper than whatever a hotel’s gonna charge you. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“‘Fun’ is not the word I would use,” Vegeta sighs, “But I guess so.” He hates having to rely on anyone for anything, and he’s going to owe Goku a huge favor for this. “Thank you,” he manages, even though graciousness pains his very soul. 

He’s not looking forward to the next couple of weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Find Vegeta's workout mix here.](http://8tracks.com/jadefyre/vegeta-s-workout-mix)


	9. Confidant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got really, really long. Let's say it's to make up for being late with the last one, yes?

“I don’t mind working for you tomorrow,” Goku insists. “Seriously, your place burned down. I totally understand if you need to, I dunno, take a day?” 

“It’s fine,” Vegeta says for the fourth time. “Go have fun with your friends. I’m going to stay in and research apartment listings.” 

Goku hovers reluctantly at the doorway. “You’re a very strange person, did you know that?” 

Vegeta rolls his eyes. “Go, Kakarot. Seriously.” 

Once he’s alone, Vegeta unpacks the go bag he grabbed on the way out. It’s got emergency rations, water, a radio, two sets of clothes. Well, one set of clothes, now that he’s wearing the other. There’s an extra phone charger in there, too. Vegeta lost his other one in the fire. He really needs to relax and clear his mind so he sits on the double bed that Goku had given him fresh sheets for, crosses his legs, and meditates. It’s been a long while since Vegeta has felt the need to clear his mind, but like the smoke and flames that consumed his building, there is a swirling confusion of thoughts in his head. 

Once he’s as finished as his thoughts will let him be, Vegeta puts away the meat, vegetables, and various protein shake ingredients that he spent the day purchasing. Goku had given him a key to let himself into his suite to get situated. He’d also given him the Wifi password, so Vegeta has everything he needs for the night. 

It’s 9 o’clock and Vegeta is three hours into his apartment search. He emails a few of them and explains the urgency of his situation. None of the options are too appealing. He’s in the middle of contemplating a condo purchase when his text tone beeps. 

> _You sure you don’t wanna come drown your sorrows with us?_

It’s a number he doesn’t recognize, but Vegeta has a pretty good idea of who it belongs to. 

_Is this Bulma?_

> _Yeah you should come over_  
> _We’re watching Star Wars on the big screen_

_No, thanks. I have to work early._

Vegeta switches his phone to silent and is about to set it face down when a call comes in. “I’m not coming over,” he answers grumpily. 

“Nah, I understand,” Bulma replies. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Krillin says you were worried that I’d take the roses the wrong way.” 

He _didn’t_. “Remind me to put Krillin on baking duty for the next month,” Vegeta sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I was just trying to say thank you.” 

“Oh, I know,” Bulma says. “I knew that from the start. It’s nice to be appreciated. That’s not only why I called, though. I just wanted to see how you’re feeling, after… you know...” 

“You can say the words, woman.” 

“...After the fire. You must still be in shock.” 

“I’ve come to terms with it,” Vegeta responds curtly, hoping she’ll get the hint that he doesn’t feel particularly talkative right now. 

“Oh, well, okay. Um. Goku says you’re crashing at his place for the time being while you look for an apartment.” 

Sigh. “Yes, unfortunately.” 

“I guess you like your privacy, huh?”

“What gave you _that_ impression?” Vegeta grunts, wishing he had some privacy with his own thoughts at this very moment. 

“Just a hunch, but listen, you know that little cabin you slept in when you were here? You can live there, if you want. Rent-free. Until you find something you like better.” 

Vegeta stays silent on the other line. Why would she even offer that? She barely knows him. Has she been drinking or something? 

“Vegeta?” 

“I’ll think about it. I have to go,” he says. Then, before he can stop the words coming out of his mouth, “I’m working tomorrow if you want to come by.” He hangs up before Bulma can get another word in edgewise. Then he sighs. It was rude, yes, but she can’t just drop that bomb on him and expect him to have his thoughts together.

To his mild disappointment, Bulma doesn’t text Vegeta for the rest of the evening.

\---

Wake-up time comes early, but Vegeta is already wide-awake when his alarm goes off. He quietly moves around the suite so as not to wake up Goku, preparing his breakfast and getting dressed. He assumes that Piccolo won’t mind much if he isn’t in uniform today, given the circumstances. Time to go shopping for some new black slacks. 

Piccolo, for his part, seems surprised to see Vegeta already preparing to open when he arrives. He doesn’t question it, though, and slips in beside Vegeta to work in tandem. “How’s the latte art coming?” he asks, setting out the day-old pastries in bags. 

Vegeta nods. “Fine.” He appreciates the fact that Piccolo doesn’t bring up the fire right off the bat - he’s getting tired of talking about it. And thinking about it. 

“Cool. Think you’ll be ready to enter the competition in a few months?” 

Competition? That’s news to Vegeta. He plays along anyway. “We’ll see. I don’t want to put myself out there when I’m not ready, yet, but I also want to absolutely vanquish Kakarot.” 

“I can give you some pointers on form,” Piccolo offers. “You might want to brush up fast. Goku has already entered and he’s a favorite to win.” 

“So, how was the movie?” Vegeta abruptly changes the subject, lest he let on how stupidly competitive he feels about this whole thing. 

“Same as it has been since the ‘70s,” Piccolo shrugs. “Bulma has a personally-remastered edition of the original cuts. No weird Lucas edits.” 

Vegeta nods along like he knows what Piccolo is talking about. Truth is, he doesn’t - or didn’t, now - own a television, and he’s seen a total of five films in his entire life.

Piccolo narrows his eyes at Vegeta. “You’ve never seen Star Wars, have you?” he asks, ever astute. 

Vegeta shrugs. “I don’t have time to watch movies.” 

“That’s fair,” Piccolo concedes and doesn’t pry further.

As they continue their opening routine, Vegeta reaches for the tea bags to restock the tins, but they’re on a shelf just out of his reach. He strains upward on his tiptoes but his fingers can’t quite grasp the box, and instead shove it further away from him to his frustration.

Piccolo, seeing his predicament and being nearly a foot taller than Vegeta, steps in to pull them down. “We should keep these on a lower shelf,” he notes, “Since half the people who work here are under six feet.”  
There’s a slight hint of amusement in Piccolo’s voice and Vegeta would take offense at the implication that he’s short, but he can’t help but agree for the sake of practicality. “Let’s keep them under the counter. There’s room in here,” he says, opening a cupboard that contains only a box of supplies that can go elsewhere. 

It’s a slow Saturday morning. The first customer comes in at quarter past opening time for a simple, black coffee. At half-past, three young men in suits order lattes and hold a meeting at a corner table. According to Piccolo, they’re regulars who have been coming in almost every Saturday morning for almost a year. They had to resort to Starbucks while the cafe was closed for renovations and they weren’t happy about it. 

Tien arrives for his mid-morning shift fifteen minutes early, as is his custom. He retreats into the break room with his coffee and emerges fully-aproned, right on time. Since it’s quiet, Vegeta decides to leave him and Piccolo on the floor while he takes care of paperwork in the cafe. 

Vegeta’s mind wanders to his short conversation with Bulma from the night previous. He had invited her to come see him at work today if she so desired, and he finds himself hoping to see her. He decides that resisting her friendship will, for the time being, be more trouble than it’s worth. His hopes soon come to fruition. 

Bulma makes eye contact with Vegeta as she approaches the door of the cafe. Vegeta realizes he hadn’t noticed her pulling into the lot because she’s not driving her Lamborghini today. He inwardly dreams of making enough to afford multiple luxury vehicles, someday.  
“Mind if I sit with you?” Bulma asks as she approaches his table. Vegeta is not sitting at her usual spot up by the bar, but she clearly isn’t here to visit with Piccolo and Tien. 

Vegeta neatly stacks the spread paperwork and tucks it out of her way. He nods, indicating with his eyes that she should sit. He also notices that she hasn’t bothered to order anything. “You want me to get you a latte or something?” he asks in an attempt to be friendly, but his tone comes out more annoyed than anything. 

Bulma, for her part, seems completely unfazed. “Maybe an ice coffee with vanilla and milk. Thanks, Vegeta!” She pulls out her phone and connects to the Wifi as Vegeta stands up to fulfill her request. When Vegeta returns with her drink and a macchiato for himself, Bulma waits until he’s seated again to put down her phone.  
“So, you wanna come over after work to look at the cabin again? See if you wanted to live there for a while?” 

Startled by the non-sequitur, Vegeta just stares at her. “Maybe,” he mutters. She certainly doesn’t waste any time getting to the point.  
The loud crash of multiple metal objects hitting the floor interrupts his next thought- and sends Vegeta ducking, arms over his head and neck to protect them. When the clattering subsides and he can hear his own breathing once more, his eyes gaze up and meet Bulma’s own shocked ones. 

“Sorry!” Piccolo calls out to the cafe’s patrons while Tien sighs and bends down to gather the various utensils that have scattered across the floor. 

“Well, if we weren’t awake before, we are now!” replies a regular sitting at one of the booths, causing murmurs of agreement to ripple throughout the room, including Bulma. 

Bulma’s gaze doesn’t move from Vegeta’s as he sits back up and clears his throat. He breaks eye contact and looks down at his paperwork. Wisely choosing not to comment on his overreaction, Bulma continues, “Why don’t you stay for a couple months until you get all your insurance issues worked out? I can help you find a place in the meantime, if you’d like.” 

“You barely know me,” Vegeta says, voicing the thoughts he’d had the previous night. “And that’s a really big favor to be offering.” 

Bulma shrugs. “Goku says you’re a good guy, and I believe him. He’s more than happy to have you stay with him for as long as you need to, you know, but I can tell you’re the kind of person who enjoys living alone. And besides, the place is just sitting empty anyway.” 

Vegeta contemplates her response, smiling ever so slightly at Goku’s commendation of his character. Even if it is inaccurate. “I can come over later, I guess,” he agrees.

“Don’t mention it,” Bulma says. “You’re one of us now, and I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about it. One of the perks of working here. But I should probably let you get back to your paperwork, huh?” 

Vegeta really does need to get it finished, but he doesn’t mind her company, either.  
“Stay,” he says. “Unless you’ve got things to do,” he adds, discovering that he’s disappointed at the prospect of her leaving so soon. 

Bulma’s face lights up with a beautiful smile. “Nothing that can’t wait.” 

\---

Vegeta pulls into the driveway next to Bulma’s Audi. He hums absentmindedly to himself as he makes his way to the front door. Before he can knock, the door opens to reveal Bulma in a very cute tank top with a smudge of… flour? on her face. The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafts out and greet’s Vegeta’s senses welcomingly.  
“Come in, don’t worry about your shoes,” Bulma says.  
Vegeta does as he’s told and leaves his shoes on, though it feels weird doing so. “Cookies?” he asks curiously.  
“An old trick my mom uses when she’s showing houses; she’s a realtor and she says it makes people feel right at home.”  
“Are you trying to convince me to move in with baking?” Vegeta asks wryly. He decides that it wouldn’t be such a bad prospect. He’d still pay rent, even if Bulma attempted to refuse. He knows that him living here wouldn’t put her out any, but he has never been a freeloader and he’s not about to start.  
“Is it working?” Bulma smirks.  
“Might be,” Vegeta replies. “Better let me taste one first, just to be sure.”  
Bulma chuckles and obliges him, handing him a freshly-baked and perfectly round cookie off the cooling rack. It’s still warm and gooey and it’s absolutely delicious.  
“There are more in the oven, too. I figured you could take some home for you and Goku to share.” 

Bulma enjoys a cookie herself before motioning for Vegeta to follow her.  
“It comes fully furnished, though we can replace the mattress if it’s not to your liking,” Bulma says over her shoulder as she enters the bedroom and flips on the light. “There’s a basic dish set and cutlery in the kitchen. You’d just need to get your own toiletries and you’d be golden.”  
Vegeta follows her into the room to find her opening the closet. He sits down on the bed and notes the big picture window on the far side of the room. It faces North so he won’t have to worry about the sun shining directly on his face in the mornings.  
“There’s linens and an extra bed set in here. There isn’t a washing machine, though, so you can pop over to the main building to use the employee machines. They’re free to use and the building is unlocked 24/7. I’ll get you basic clearance so you can move around freely on the first floor once you check in at the security desk.” 

“What, no tour?” 

“Well, if you’d come to my movie night, I might’ve given you a tour then,” Bulma replies cheekily. “But sure, I can show you around. Make sure you don’t get lost.” 

“I have excellent spacial awareness,” Vegeta says, deadpan. “I don’t get lost.” 

“And best of all,” Bulma continues, ignoring him, “It’s pretty quiet right here. No traffic or any sudden loudness.” She side-eyes Vegeta as she says the last part. 

Vegeta side-eyes her right back, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge her allusion to his reaction earlier in the day. He realizes, though, that she doesn’t mean to poke fun at him. It’s her own weird way of being helpful, even if she does go about it in a weird way. 

Bulma puts up a finger indicating for Vegeta to stay where he is, exits the bedroom, and returns with a chair from the kitchen and another cookie for each of them. She sets the chair at the foot of the bed so that she doesn’t sit facing Vegeta, but beside him.  
“I know I hardly know you. But from what Goku’s told me, you don’t get out much. And I just want you to feel included with our group. You’re always welcome to come hang out with us, whatever we’re doing.” 

“Uh, thanks?” Vegeta says, wondering what he’s done to warrant this level of concern from this woman who barely knows him.

“Vegeta,” she says quietly after a couple of beats. “I know enough about you to understand what kind of life you’ve led. If Frieza left you the shop, you must have been close to him in _some_ way. And I know what kind of person he was.” 

She’s bringing that up _now_?  
“You know _nothing_ about the kind of life I had,” Vegeta hisses, angry that she’d bring the subject up unprompted. “And it’s none of your business.”

Bulma puts her hands up to show him she means no harm. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you know that- that I understand. Why you don’t seem to want to let anybody in. I get it. But I also want you to know that you don’t have to be alone forever. Goku, Chi-Chi, and I were talking about you last night and we really do want you to be a part of our lives. We like you. Aloofness and all.” 

Vegeta frowns. “I’ve lived the last ten years without relying on anybody, I don’t know why that should change now.” 

“Would it help if you just spent some time with us? You don’t even have to talk about yourself. You’re clearly not the pouring-out-of-feelings type of person.”  
That does sound appealing, Vegeta thinks. Hanging out, having friends who have no expectations of him to divulge his past. “Guess so,” he replies non-committally. 

“But if you ever did want to share anything, know that you’ll have a listening ear.” 

“Hm.” 

A silence descends between them and they sit together for some time. Vegeta’s hands rest on his knees as he leans forward over the edge of the bed, staring at the carpet. He hates the way that Bulma seems to be able to read him like a book. But as he thought earlier, it will probably be easier to just let her be his friend if it makes her feel better. He determines to accept the next invitation to an outing that he receives if it’ll get her off his back.

Finally, Bulma stands. “I should probably let you go, though. Come by after work tomorrow and I can help you get set up with internet and cable. Is there anything else you need?” 

Vegeta reluctantly follows her to the doorway of the bedroom and watches as she replaces the chair at the kitchen table. With relief that she lets the subject go for now, he looks around the small cabin. “Actually, do you have an exercise mat or a stereo I could borrow?” 

Bulma smiles. “I have both. I’ll bring them tomorrow.” The timer for the second batch of cookies dings and she pulls them out of the oven. “Do you want to wait and bring these home tonight or take them tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine. Thanks,” Vegeta nods. “I’ll see you around, then.” 

“I look forward to it,” Bulma says warmly. 

And, so Vegeta decides, does he.


	10. Sparks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, bigger chapters require more time to write and edit. I'm pretty late with this one, so I apologize - I've been working full time and haven't found the time to write. But I have a few days off this week, so hopefully I'll have another chapter to you shortly. 
> 
> Thanks to neala-ernswa (of tumblr) who's been cheering me on and suggesting titles and plot points for my chapters.

“Bulma gets her baking skills from her mom,” Goku informs Vegeta, mouth full of cookie. He shoves another bite in and closes his eyes. “Mmmm.” 

Vegeta sits across from Goku at the table, elbows planted firmly and hands clasped mid-air. He furrows his brow at his temporary roommate; this is a side of him he’s not familiar with.   
“Are you capable of eating like a normal human?” Vegeta asks.

“Normal people’s eating habits are boring,” Goku says. He’s more than happy to eat the majority of the cookies that Bulma sent home, and picks another one out of the container. 

Vegeta looks around the apartment. He tidied up after himself that morning, but it’s already a disaster again. There are clothes strewn across the back of the couch, dishes piled in the sink and on the counter, and mail all over the kitchen table.   
“I don’t understand,” Vegeta says, shaking his head. 

“Don’t understand what?” Goku asks with a crumb falling from his mouth. 

“The cafe is literally spotless when you’re on shift. You’re on top of it. How does that translate to… this?” Vegeta replies, waving his hand to indicate the state of the entire suite. 

“I’m tired after work and I’m not actually home all that often,” Goku shrugs. “Bulma asks the same thing, but then she just cleans up anyway.” 

“You shouldn’t take advantage of her like that,” Vegeta grumbles. “You’re a grown man, for goodness sake.” 

Goku shrugs again. “I don’t ask her to, she just does it. Chi-Chi won’t come over unless it’s clean, though, so I usually just spend time at her place.” 

“Do you leave that a mess, too?” 

Goku pouts. “I help out,” he says, hurt that Vegeta would judge him this way. “Mostly because she won’t get off my back until I do, but whatever makes her happy…”

Vegeta lifts an eyebrow. “It’s a good thing. Somebody’s gotta teach you some life skills.” 

Goku stands and makes his way to the counter to fill the sink with soapy water. “Once my boss, always my boss,” he says, shaking his head. “I bet you’re looking forward to having your own place again, huh?” 

“I do admit, it will be nice not living in a building where other people carelessly start fires.” 

“This way, when Bulma has parties, you just have to walk across the grounds to the main building instead of driving!” Goku says cheerily, loading crusty dishes into the sink. 

“I’m not much of a party-goer,” Vegeta says, examining a cookie. “I prefer being around as few people as possible. But she won’t leave me alone, so to get her off my back I figure I’ll go to whatever thing you guys plan next.” 

“Hm,” Goku smirks. “That _might_ not work in your favor. Once you take the bait, she’ll just keep reeling.” 

“Bait?” 

“You know, like on a fish hook?” Goku says, miming a fishing rod and staring bemusedly at Vegeta. 

“I know _that_ ,” Vegeta huffs impatiently. “I mean, why is me hanging out with you guys ‘bait’?” 

“Well, she’ll keep inviting you to stuff once she knows you’re down for it,” Goku explains. “If you just ignore it, she’ll get bored with you and stop eventually. That’s what happened with Yajirobe.” 

Vegeta scrunches his nose. “Not to speak ill of the semi-employed, but he’s kind of a downer. Why invite him in the first place?” 

“Because Bulma’s a nice person? And he’s not so bad. He’s just an acquired taste, like the dark roast we brew now. It’s a lot different from what we had before you closed the shop for renovations.” 

“You sayin’ you don’t like my coffee bean selection?” Vegeta asks challengingly. 

“I’m _sayin’_ that it’s not what I’d have chosen at first, but I don’t mind it so much now.” 

Goku’s phone rings and the conversation ends wish a sheepish wave as he answers it. He retreats to his bedroom and shuts the door, leaving Vegeta to wallow with this new information about Bulma. 

Is he ready to be social on a regular basis? Probably not; it’s enough emotional labor to do it at work and have to put on a disposition to the public that isn’t completely sour. Is he ready to be at the mercy of someone who’s offering him what amounts to an enormous and unnecessary kindness in Vegeta’s book? Definitely not. 

Is he going to live on the Capsule Corp grounds and accept Bulma’s next invitation to whatever it is she invites people to? Absolutely. 

He’s screwed. 

\---

With nothing to pack and move and hardly any clothes to wear, Vegeta is able to move right into the cabin the following day. It’s Sunday and he has the day off again, so he decides to refill his wardrobe at the very least. New boots, shoes, work shoes, pants, and shirts, workout attire - and a cheap pack of underwear to last him the week. He keeps the receipts for when his tenant’s insurance pays out on the fire. 

That evening as he makes coffee in the French press Bulma left for him in the kitchen, there’s a knock at the door.   
“Just a minute!” Vegeta calls at the door and runs to the bedroom to put on a pair of sweatpants.   
He opens the door, shirtless, and is surprised to see Bulma holding what appears to be a gift basket.   
“Welcome!” she greets him, shoving it into his arms. “Make sure you put this stuff away soon, some of it needs to be refrigerated.”   
“Uh, thanks?” Vegeta says, confused by the kind gesture.   
“It’s nothing,” Bulma says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “How are you settling in?” 

Vegeta moves so that she can see inside. “Well, I’m already unpacked,” he says in monotone, suddenly embarrassed to be wearing so few clothes in the heiress’ presence.   
Bulma nudges him on the shoulder playfully. “You’re hilarious.”   
“Do you want to come in?” Vegeta asks, more to be polite than out of desire for company.   
“Maybe for a bit,” Bulma agrees, though not to Vegeta’s disappointment. 

After putting on a shirt, Vegeta pours Bulma a cup of coffee and then begins to unwrap the gift basket at her behest. There’s a few condiments and spices, as well as some very expensive-looking cheese. He’s not even sure how to go about eating it, in fact.   
“What, no crackers?” he snarks, holding up the strange dairy specimen.   
“No,” Bulma says wryly, tilting her head. “There wasn’t enough room because of the imported Champagne.”   
Vegeta, having never actually tried real Champagne before, peeks into the basket before he realizes she’s kidding. Instead, there’s a gold-labeled bottle of scotch in its place. Vegeta saw it once in the bar of a five-star hotel while he was away on a work trip. It cost the same as his yearly bonus and he didn’t even entertain the notion of tasting it.  
“Ah, to be rich and famous,” he deadpans. 

“Not all it’s cracked up to be,” Bulma points out after sipping her coffee.   
“That’s from my dad. He’s got his own private reserves. And by the way, this is really, _really_ good. I think you’ve found your calling.” Bulma holds the mug of coffee up as if to inspect it.  
“Yes, the coffee beans sing to me at night, beckoning me. Like sirens.”   
“I’m serious, Vegeta!” Bulma says taking another sip. “It’s a good fit for you. Vegeta the brewster. You’re going to be world-famous one day, I can tell.”   
“Well, I’m glad, because it’s what I’m stuck with.” 

When Vegeta finishes unpacking the basket, he sits across from Bulma.   
“I’m not sure what to do with half of that stuff, but thanks, I guess,” he says awkwardly.   
Bulma leans in. “My mom actually packed a good portion of that,” she stage-whispers conspiratorially. “So don’t feel bad if you don’t use it much.” She winks for good measure and Vegeta doesn’t know how to respond to that.

They sip their coffee in silence until Vegeta sets down his empty mug. “We need to talk about the matter of payment,” he says abruptly. “I can’t just live here for free. That’s not fair.” 

Bulma shrugs. “It’s no big deal. If you want to pay to live in a place, I’ll help you find an apartment. Otherwise, it’s nothing. Really.” 

Vegeta shakes his head. “Let me at least do something in return. I don’t accept charity.” 

Bulma puts her hand on her chin and stares at Vegeta in thought. “Fine, how about $300 monthly and call it even?” 

“Feels like highway robbery,” Vegeta mutters. “But I guess it’s something.” 

“Do you want me to show you around the main building tonight?” Bulma changes the subject. “Do you have any laundry you need to do?” 

Vegeta glances at the meager pile of clothing in the designated laundry corner on the floor of his bedroom. “Not right now. But sure, show me around.” 

\---

The walk across the compound is calming. There are pathways with lanterns on either side criss-crossing the whole property, and the great dome in the center is lit up with thousands of tiny lights. Patches of flora break up the landscape, and Vegeta swears he sees a raccoon scurry up a tree. There’s even a small pond with a crescent bridge over it. 

The full moon overhead illuminates the unlit areas and reflects off of Bulma’s blue hair. More than once, Vegeta catches himself glancing at her when she’s not looking. She really is a beautiful woman, but he knows can’t dwell on that. When she turns toward him, smiling and pointing out some aspect of design on the compound, his heart seizes in his chest. 

_You can’t even handle a **friendship** right now,_ he reminds himself.   
Once they reach the main building, Bulma leads Vegeta to the security desk that doubles as reception. The night guard, looking bored, perks up when he sees Bulma approaching.   
“Kyle, this is Vegeta. He’s moved into that empty cabin I told you about. He’ll have free reign of the first floor, so I’m just going to show him around. Alright?”   
Kyle nods, giving Vegeta a once-over. “Have fun, man,” he says. 

The laundry room is located near a lounge area that has a television, multiple gaming consoles, and a kitchen. Through a doorway beside the tv, Vegeta spots a squat rack.   
“Is there gym in there?” he asks, his voice betraying his hopefulness. It would be great to have access to equipment whenever he wants. 

Bulma nods. “It was upgraded just last year. Everything is state-of-the-art. We even have analysis equipment and personal trainers in our employ.”

“You’ve spared no expense,” Vegeta says, somewhat awed. DB Enterprises was nice, but this is a whole other league.

“Happy employees are productive employees,” Bulma shrugs. “And we’ve headhunted a lot of brilliant minds from Google. We had to compete on a work-environment level somehow.” 

The business major in Vegeta appreciates that. “Personal trainers are expensive. I bet your employees love that. Wish my last employer had those.” 

“The personal trainers love it even more. They’re salaried and make extra if they train more people. It’s a good situation all-around. I even use one.” 

Vegeta stands with his hands on his hips as he surveys the room. “Are you sure you want to be charging me only $300 monthly?” he asks. 

Bulma punches his shoulder playfully.   
“I can’t believe you’re trying to pay me more money. I don’t need more money, Vegeta. You know who I am.”   
She tilts her head and smiles at him. 

“What?” 

“You put on this gruff exterior but you’re a big softie on the inside, aren’t you?” Bulma teases.

Vegeta regards her coolly. “If by ‘softie’ you mean cold-hearted and uncaring, sure,” he shrugs. But in a way, she’s right. He’d once shot a man for implying crude things about his mother, but as the years away from Frieza stretched on, he had become a comparatively softer person.   
“I’m not soft, but I do believe in fairness,” he continues. “And it seems unfair that I’m paying a pittance for what is easily worth $1200 or more.” 

“I don’t know what else to do to make you accept it,” Bulma says. “But just take it as it is, okay?” 

Deciding that it’s futile to convince Bulma at the moment, Vegeta decides to let it go for the night. Suspicion wells up inside of him, wondering what she could possibly expect of him in the future. She’s clearly a generous person, but in his limited experience with people showing him such kindness, they’ve always expected something in the future. 

\---

Bulma walks back with Vegeta to his cabin, since her car is parked out front.   
“So you worked at DB Enterprises before you got the shop?” she enquires as they approach the front door, recalling a detail from an earlier conversation.  
Vegeta nods. “Yep. We had a decent benefits package, but nothing like this.” He remembers the way she had looked at him when he mentioned his former employment the first time; the mischievous glint in her eye had betrayed deeper knowledge than she was letting on.   
“I’ll have to look into upgrading it accordingly,” Bulma says with a small smirk. “We always value the feedback of our daughter companies’ former employees.”   
Vegeta stops and turns only his head toward her, confused, before he realizes. “Of course Capsule Corp would own DB Enterprises.” He shakes his head. What _didn’t_ Capsule Corp own these days?   
Bulma grins. “Entirely overseen by its own board of directors, of course, but yes. My father was a founding member.”   
Vegeta cocks an eyebrow. “Now you’re just bragging,” he says. “And I’ve got to go to sleep. I work early.” 

“Let me know if you need anything,” Bulma offers as she opens her car door. “You have my number.” 

Vegeta nods and holds his hand up in a wave as she pulls out of the parking lot. When he gets back inside, he realizes that it’s not only late, it’s way past his bedtime. He crawls under the covers and after finally hushing his disquieted thoughts about a certain blue-haired beauty, he drifts off into uneasy sleep. 

\---

The blaring of his alarm awakens Vegeta the next morning. _No more late nights,_ he decides the moment he tries to sit up. The warmth of his bed beckons him back under the covers and he closes his eyes with the intention of convincing himself to get up.   
When he opens his eyes again, daylight streams in through the curtains. Very, very bright daylight.   
Vegeta shoots upward and checks the time on his phone. 9:43 am. Damn.   
There’s a missed call from Goku and three texts; two from him and one from Bulma. Vegeta sends a quick apology text to Goku, telling him he’d be in shortly. Thankfully, being the owner of your own business gives one leeway for tardiness. 

The text from Bulma is an invitation to another night of drinks. Apparently drinking on Mondays is a regular thing for these people. Vegeta realizes it’s only been a week since meeting Bulma, but that doesn’t sound right.   
In the span of merely seven days, he’s lost his apartment, moved into a new place, and developed some form of weird friendship feelings toward a woman who he’d have despised even just five years ago. His life, he decides, is incredibly weird.   
And as per his previous determination, he texts back a reluctant “Okay.” 

\---

“A city health inspector came by this morning,” Goku says to Vegeta without looking up at him. He examines a page of paperwork, flipping between it and the subsequent one. “I guess it’s the time of year where they’re doing spot checks on local businesses.” 

Warning bells fire off in Vegeta’s head before he remembers that his restaurant is actually pretty damn clean, and his employees are well-trained in food safety.   
“What did they say?” he asks casually, so as not to betray his concern. 

Goku shrugs. “They observed our food-handling practices, checked our fridge temps, and examined the stockroom. They said if they had any questions or anything that they’d be back when you’re working.” 

Not so bad, after all. No immediate failure meant they probably passed, right?   
“When was the last time the cafe was inspected?” Vegeta asks. 

“I can’t remember exactly, but the file should be in your office. Will you be okay by yourself for a minute?” Goku asks Yamcha, who picked up a shift this morning from Chiaotzu.  
Upon receiving a response in the affirmative, Goku leads Vegeta down the hallway.   
“We’ve never had a single bad report in all the time I’ve worked here,” Goku reassures Vegeta. “So I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”   
“You know I worry anyway,” Vegeta replies. 

Vegeta is finally satisfied after seeing last year’s inspection from March. As Goku said, they passed the inspection - earning high commendation on nearly every point - and with no fundamental changes since then, they were sure to be fine. 

“Huh, that’s weird,” Goku says, looking closer at the page. “Their official logo must have changed. The header on this is blue and red, but the inspector who came in today had a badge that was purple and orange.” 

Vegeta raises an eyebrow. “Why is that important?” He knows Goku wouldn’t have mentioned it if it weren’t.   
But Goku shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s just kinda weird. Should I call the city and double check?”   
“I’ll do that later,” Vegeta says. “Don’t worry about it.” 

And by do that later, Vegeta means that he’ll forget to do it after a mountain of paperwork and no fewer than three harrowing rushes in the cafe. The inspection completely slips his mind until two and a half weeks later when another inspector shows up - one that Goku doesn’t recognize, and who wears the blue and red of a city official.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear the theories you guys have about this latest development. 
> 
> Or any development thus far, really. Tell me your thoughts!


	11. Inspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops guess who wrote the nearly 4,000 words of this chapter over the last two days? 
> 
> That's right, it's me. Surprise, a new update this week! I'm more excited about it than you are, because a little plot bunny I've been working on (with help from the ever-excellent neala-ernswa of tumblr) is starting to rear it's fluffy head.

“Was there an issue with the inspection?” Goku asks as the man approaches the front counter and introduces himself as a city health official. There’s a lull in the usual Thursday afternoon rush, and the din of the cafe is low.  
“Pardon?” the man asks.  
“My assistant manager showed one of your inspectors around nearly three weeks ago and said to keep in touch if there were any issues we had to fix,” Vegeta says.  
The man squints at his clipboard from behind delicately perched glasses. He shakes his head. “I’m afraid your assistant manager is mistaken. We haven’t yet visited the Z Cafe this year.” 

Alarms go off in Vegeta’s mind and he tenses up, glancing over at Tien. 

Tien, anticipating Vegeta’s forthcoming request, silently replaces his position at the till. “I can handle the floor,” he mutters quietly to Vegeta as he slides into place. 

“Perhaps we should talk in my office,” Vegeta says, lifting an eyebrow at the stoic way Tien was eavesdropping on the conversation from his spot at the bar.  
The inspector obliges and follows him and Goku down the hall. Once the door is closed, Vegeta turns to face him, arms crossed. “Are you certain there hasn’t been a mixup? Kakarot doesn’t make mistakes like that.” 

The man shakes his head. “Simply positive. We had nobody in this quadrant of the city until last week. The person to whom Kakarot here spoke was not a city representative. Furthermore, impersonating a city official counts as a misdemeanor.”  
He turns to address Goku, “So I’d like you to come down to the local police station to make a statement so that they can open an investigation into this incident.” 

Vegeta sees the concern on the man’s face rather than hearing it in his even-timbred voice.  
“Why would somebody impersonate a health inspector?” Vegeta wonders aloud. 

The man sucks in a sharp breath before answering. “Any number of reasons,” he replies vaguely. “Most commonly, thieves will case out a potential mark before hitting it. That’s why it needs to be investigated in the event that they’re targeting multiple businesses.” 

“Why would they want to case out _this_ place? All they’ll find is a relatively small till float, some coffee beans and a fridge full of milk,” Goku says.  
“Well, you did say that it’s been a few weeks, maybe they decided it wasn’t worth their time. But at any rate, we don’t want this to become an issue, so please go make your statement as soon as possible.  
Vegeta nods. “Do you need me with you for the inspection?”  
“I’ll come to you if I have questions about anything,” the inspector says, dismissing himself. 

Once the door shuts behind him, Goku turns to Vegeta, crestfallen. “I had no idea, I’m sorry.” 

Vegeta regards him emotionlessly. “You could not have known,” he states. “However, I think it best to do as the man says and go down to the police station. Tien and I can handle things until you get back.”  
Goku nods and, sensing that Vegeta is angry but not at him directly, gathers his jacket and car keys. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” 

Needing time to think the situation over, Vegeta opts to make drinks instead of taking orders. A rush from the office building across the street descends upon them at 3:30, and Vegeta knocks out their seven drinks in five minutes flat. It’s a small accomplishment, but it makes him feel at least a little better. More customers enter the cafe as the last of them finishes placing his order with Tien.  
As he pours the last latte for the businessmen, he ponders security options in his mind. The cafe already has an alarm system installed, but would it hurt to hire a guard to patrol the property for the next month or two? Security firms cost a lot, but Vegeta didn’t cut off everybody from his old life. He’s sure he can call in an uncashed favor with one of his old acquaintances, provided they’re still alive. 

“Um, excuse me?” Vegeta hears a snotty voice ask from the other side of the counter, interrupting his thoughts. He looks up to see a middle-aged woman in a pantsuit glaring at him.  
Resisting the urge to narrow his eyes at her tone, he opts for a simple “Yes?” in response.  
“I asked for a large soy latte with _half_ sweet sugar-free hazelnut and _no_ foam,” she snaps. “This isn’t any of those.”  
Vegeta glances at the medium 2% latte with a pretty rosetta that she’s holding. Obviously it’s not.  
“Well, ma’am, that’s because that’s not yours. It belongs to the gentleman behind you whom you seem to have cut off from retrieving his drink.”  
The woman turns around and glares at the gentleman, too, before turning back to Vegeta. “How dare you speak to me like that! Of all the rude…” she mumbles, incensed. 

Vegeta pours her soy milk into the pitcher and moves to grind decaf espresso before thinking better of it.  
“I’m sorry ma’am,” he manages in the best customer service voice he can muster, “But I’m just informing you that there are other customers waiting, too.”  
He tamps the espresso into the portafilter and twists it onto the group head of the machine. “Your latte will be ready in a minute.”  
Clearly not satisfied with his response, the woman frowns deeply. “I need to have a chat with your supervisor about his employees’ attitudes toward the people who pay their bills. Get me a manager immediately!” she demands. 

Vegeta has read about this moment. He’s dreamed about this moment. If there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s self-entitled customers who think they can treat his baristas like servants.  
“Well you see,” he says casually after checking the thermometer in the steamed soy, “I am the manager.” He makes eye contact as he says that last part, barely keeping the triumph off his face.  
He taps the pitcher against the counter with more force than usual in order to smooth out the large bubbles. He maintains eye contact with her as he grabs a latte spoon and holds the foam back, pouring the liquid into the espresso-and-syrup concoction.  
This, of course, gets the woman all up in arms and even huffier than before. She grabs the drink from Vegeta’s hand, spilling some on herself in the process. “Hmph! See if I ever come back here again.”  
Vegeta gives her his best retail smile, a relatively new skill he has acquired after watching how well Goku handles disgruntled customers. “Ma’am, we try to treat our customers kindly and with respect, and we expect the same of them toward us and our other patrons. If you can’t do either of those things, then I’ll happily ask you take your business elsewhere.”  
“Fine then,” the woman replies and storms out of the shop. The man whose latte was purloined and sipped by the rude lady stands awkwardly staring after her. “Oh, dear,” he says.  
“Let me remake that for you, sir,” Vegeta says in his regular-human voice the moment the door shuts behind her. “Would you like me to add anything extra? On the house,” Vegeta asks as a final screw-you to the departed. 

\---

When Goku returns, there are still two hours left until closing. He brings an officer with him to help figure out how to tighten security.  
Though Vegeta hasn’t been in the life for a decade, the sight of the cop still causes him to freeze. He watches Goku amicably show the officer around the shop, pointing out the alarm system and security cameras quietly.  
The cop nods. “If you think you’re in immediate danger of a break-in, we can have a squad car patrol for the next two nights. Otherwise, you know how to reach us,” Vegeta hears him say. 

After twenty minutes, the officer leaves and Vegeta finally relaxes. He runs another load of dishes through the sanitizer as Goku washes his hands.  
“Oh, I forgot to clock out when I left,” Goku says. “Can you adjust my time when you do payroll?”  
Vegeta sighs. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Once the shop is closed, Vegeta hovers at the door as Tien and Goku head into the parking lot.  
“Tell Bulma I can’t make it tomorrow night,” Vegeta calls after them.  
Goku turns to him and throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Tell her yourself, they’re waiting for us.”  
The tinted window of a silver vehicle in the parking lot lowers and Chi-Chi and Bulma wave through it. Turning back to the shop and deciding that his plan of auditing the inspection reports and reviewing security cam footage can wait another day, Vegeta sighs and locks the door.  
“Do you people spend all your time together or something?” He follows them over to the car.  
“Pretty much, yeah,” Goku says. “Except Tien, who likes to spend most of his time at the local boxing club.”  
Vegeta lifts an eyebrow, but isn’t entirely surprised. Tien has a certain poise about him that belies fighting strength under his calm, unflappable exterior.  
“Chiaotzu likes to cheer me on,” Tien replies with a shrug. “I’ll catch you guys later.” He veers away from the group with a wave and moves toward the sidewalk to walk home, since he lives just around the corner. 

“Hey boys!” Chi-Chi calls out.  
Goku waves to his girlfriend with a goofy grin on his face. His usually easy-going demeanor becomes downright dopey whenever Chi-Chi is around, Vegeta has noticed.  
“You coming too, Vegeta?” Bulma asks cheerfully.  
Vegeta leans down so he can see both women in the car. “Where are you going?”  
“We’re probably going to watch Netflix at Chi-Chi’s place. Or whatever we decide to do later. Maybe we’ll order a pizza or something.”  
Pizza sounds much less nerve-wracking than attempting to get in touch with former contacts who may or may not want Vegeta dead as an extension of Frieza’s timeless anger. Vegeta’s rational and responsible side nags at him as he finds himself agreeing to accompany them.  
“I’ll follow you in my car,” he says. 

“Might be easier for Goku or Bulma to go with you,” Chi-Chi says. “My place is a ways out of town and kind of hard to get to.”  
“Bulma can go, right, Bulma?” Goku asks, clearly wanting to spend some time alone with Chi-Chi.  
Bulma purses her lips in mock indignance. “Fine, but you’d better be there to let us in when we get there,” she teases and exits the vehicle to let Goku in.  
In the midst of all this, Vegeta tries to find an opportunity to protest. Once it becomes clear that Bulma was going with him anyway, he decides to just accept it. He’s barely seen her save for the weekly Friday drink nights for the past couple weeks, so she hasn’t had an opportunity to get on his nerves.

Bulma settles into the passenger seat as Vegeta starts the car. He slides the stick into first and waits to pull out of the spot to follow Chi-Chi and Goku.  
“How far away does she live?” he asks, considering which playlist from his phone to put on over the Bluetooth speakers.  
“About twenty five minutes,” Bulma says. “She’s way out in the boonies.”  
“Mind if I play some music?” Vegeta asks. Normally he would go with the whole “My car, my rules” routine, but he’s feeling magnanimous today.  
“As long as it’s not all German death metal, then sure,” Bulma smirks.  
“Alright, 75% German death metal it is,” he says, and puts on the trip playlist he keeps updated for long car rides like these. Out of respect for the lady’s ears, he only plays it at a quarter of the volume he normally would. 

The first five minutes of the ride are spent in silence. “So…” Bulma says as the first song ends. “How was work?”  
“It was work,” Vegeta replies helpfully. He hates small talk.  
“Cool. Our lab made a breakthrough this morning. Turns out the secret to distant space travel is a really strong gravity chamber in the outer ring of the ship.”  
“Caused by centripetal force, I assume?”  
“Yeah, actually,” Bulma turns to him, surprised.  
“I'm not just another pretty face,” Vegeta snarks. “But why are you telling me this?”  
“Our lab’s work is government-funded and discoveries are usually in the public domain. Like it is with NASA. It'll be in the news tomorrow.”  
“Fascinating,” he says mildly. At least they aren’t talking about the weather.  
“Not much of a talker, are you?” Bulma says, poking his arm.  
“What gave that away?” Vegeta says. “Besides, you know that about me. I prefer to keep my thoughts on the inside.”  
“Afraid you’ll betray your tough, manly exterior?”  
He doesn’t even dignify that with a response. 

As they approach the outskirts of the city, Bulma turns back toward him from staring out the window. “So what do you do for fun, anyway?”  
“I watch paint dry,” Vegeta says sardonically. He waits a beat. Then adds, “I work out. A lot.”  
He catches Bulma eyeing his arms, trying to read the smirk on her face.  
“I can tell,” she says finally. “I should have known by the way you were so excited about the gym at Capsule Corp.” She smiles at him and Vegeta can’t help the flutter in his stomach. 

He knows that politeness dictates that he ask something in return rather than let her interrogate him. He doesn’t want to make a complete oaf of himself in front of Bulma, so he asks her the same question.  
The conversation continues stiltedly until Vegeta asks Bulma about Capsule Corp’s space program to get the attention off of him again. After that, Bulma talks nonstop about cryogenics this and sustainability that until they reach Chi-Chi’s.  
Having lost them on the highway, Vegeta is glad to have had directions - this place would have been difficult to find even with GPS. Goku and Chi-Chi, however, have yet to arrive. Bulma quirks an eyebrow at Vegeta.  
“You must have been going faster than I thought,” she says. “Because Chi-Chi is a speed demon, and if we’re here first, you either overtook her somewhere or they stopped to get Goku something to eat.” 

“I only drive recklessly when I’m alone,” Vegeta says. “But I have noticed that Kakarot is a bottomless pit when he eats. “He’s always got something on the go at work.” 

“You think this is bad? Should’ve seen him when he was a teenager. Chi-Chi’s dad invited him over for dinner once and he just about cleaned out their entire refrigerator.”  
“Well, he is a big man,” Vegeta says. “And I know he must work out as well. His muscles are far too toned for him not to.”  
“I think he has a gym membership at the 24 hour place around the corner from his apartment. He hardly sleeps and he trains for hours really late at night after Chi-Chi goes to bed.” 

Vegeta could do that once upon a time, but no longer. Old injuries have caught up to him and if he doesn’t sleep properly, they rear their ugly heads and his whole body complains at him. Of course, Goku didn’t lead the same kind of life Vegeta did, and therefore has no reason not to be full of vigor. 

Vegeta’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Chi-Chi’s car making its way up the long driveway. “What does he train for?” he asks, imagining the intense strength that must hide under Goku’s work shirts.  
“So you know how Tien spends most of his time at a boxing club?”  
“Yes…”  
“It’s because he wants to beat Goku in a fight. But Goku just keeps getting stronger the more he trains. He could probably go pro, but he does it just for fun.”  
Vegeta frowns. So, boxing, huh? Vegeta has advanced training in hand-to-hand. He decides that one day, he’ll challenge Goku to a match. 

Bulma’s gaze lingers on Vegeta for a moment - at least he thinks it does - before she exits the vehicle. “Come on, you, let’s get that pizza ordered!”  
“Do they deliver out this far?” Vegeta wonders aloud as he follows.  
“They do when it’s custom-made and delivered fresh by a Capsule Corp drone,” she says and winks at him.  
Vegeta does his best not to let the blood rise in his face. It infuriates him how much of an effect this woman has on him. The prospect of gourmet pizza, however, causes his stomach to growl and he forgets his body’s stupid reactions as he follows her inside. 

\---

The next evening as the sun sets, Vegeta slows his Mercedes to a crawl just outside of his old stomping grounds. He hasn’t been back to this neighborhood in ten years.  
He considers parking it several blocks away and walking in, but if things go sour - that is to say, if he’s welcomed by the business end of a magnum - he wants to have a quick getaway. Nonetheless, he pulls his 10mm from the glove box, checks that the safety is on, and tucks it into his waistband. He also takes the silencer and slips it into his hoodie pocket in the event that he has to use it. Having modified the gun to his liking, the silencer will screw in easily should the need arise. He hopes it doesn’t.

Vegeta cuts the engine and waits, staring up the street to where his contact lives. Or at least, his last known address. He watches the door for half an hour, but there’s no sign of activity. He switches the interior light of the Mercedes to the off position before clicking the car door open. It’s dead quiet, and the stillness of the evening sets in as the last of the sunset’s orange hues disappear from the sky above. It’s risky leaving such a nice vehicle in plain sight, but that’s what a car alarm is for.  
Vegeta pulls the hood up over his long, spiked hair and stalks up the street, looking this way and that for any movement in the corner of his eye. As he approaches his contact’s front door, he can hear the tv blaring in a back room. He knocks in the rhythm of the old code and waits. After what seems like an eternity with no answer, he tries it again.  
This time, the door shifts ajar. A young girl, no older than 7, peeks out.  
“Who are you?” she asks distrustfully.  
Vegeta ignores the question. “Does Radditz still live here?” he asks, voice gruff but hushed.  
The girl regards him suspiciously and pouts. “Who’s asking?”  
So, he never left. “Tell him The Prince is looking for him.”  
The door shuts and Vegeta hears the pitter-patter of tiny feet running further into the house. Vegeta glances at his phone as thirty seconds turns into three minutes. Finally, the door opens again. The girl’s face reappears.  
“He’s busy. But he says he knows where you are and he’ll be in touch.” She shuts the door in his face once more and Vegeta knows she won’t be opening it again. He turns back toward the street.  
Well, at least Radditz isn’t dead. He always did lay low and never did anything to amount to greatness. Poor bastard. 

Vegeta, for his part, decides to try plan B. Which is to go to the cafe himself and check on the things he didn’t get a chance to the night before. He lets himself inside once he arrives.  
It’s eerie. The chairs are all flipped upside down on the tables, and it’s dead quiet - Vegeta has certainly been alone in the cafe before, but never at 2am. 

Vegeta nearly jumps out of his skin when his text tone sharply breaks the silence half an hour later. Was that Radditz already?  
He checks his phone.  
Nope.  
Bulma. 

_I think there’s someone in the cafe…_

_I was just dropping off Tien and Chiaotzu and I drove past and I saw movement. Didn’t see any cars out front._

Well, it’s nice to know that she’s observant and watches out for the place, at least. 

_It’s just me. I couldn’t sleep_ , he texts back. It’s only partially a lie. 

_There was an incident a while ago and I’m just reviewing cam footage._

_Want me to join you? I’m working on some blueprints but they’re portable._

Vegeta considers her offer for a moment. Why the hell not? If she wants to be in his company so badly, let her.

_I’ll unlock the door for you when you get here._

Bulma shows up fifteen minutes later with several rolls of paper tucked under her arm. Vegeta silently grants her entrance, then turns the lights on in the rest of the cafe so she has plenty of space to spread everything out and plenty of light to see it by. 

“So, what was the incident?” Bulma asks as she sets herself up in the large table in the middle. 

“We think someone was casing the place,” Vegeta says, moving behind the bar to prepare them some mint tea. “It happened a few weeks ago, but we didn’t find out until yesterday.” 

“I guess they didn’t find anything to steal, huh?” Bulma asks. 

Vegeta shakes his head. “I’m still worried, though. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.” 

“What could they possibly want?” 

Vegeta looks down at the cup as he pours hot water over the tea bag. He hasn’t voiced these fears aloud, nor really addressed them himself, but after his earlier trepidation at being back _home_ , he feels that it’s safe to tell her.  
“You know enough about me that this shouldn’t come as a surprise,” he begins. “But when I left Frieza and everyone else behind, there were a lot of hard feelings. I’m worried that somebody caught wind that I inherited the cafe and isn’t too happy about it.” 

“So you’re worried that somebody’s gonna take revenge on you for it?” 

Vegeta shrugs. “I honestly have no idea. It’s just a thought that’s been nagging at me.” 

“Do you want me to send some of my security team over here for a while?” 

“No. If it’s personal, I’d rather handle it myself. It might come to nothing, anyway. There haven’t been any threats made, which is their usual MO. They’re more about intimidation than anything else.”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Bulma says, but doesn’t press on it further. 

Vegeta leaves the door of the office open when he reviews the security footage so that he can see Bulma from his chair. She works intently, hunched over the blueprints with a pencil and a very cute, focused expression. Vegeta loses track of time watching her, and a certain serenity sets over his features.  
That is, until his brain registers unusual movement on the camera. Just like that, he snaps out of his daydreaming (though he’s loathe to call it that) and his hawk-like senses hone in on the grainy image. He rewinds the tape to see a tall figure approach the storefront. The timestamp says it was at 3am from four nights previous.  
The figure, whose face is obscured by a dark hood, is joined by a second, much shorter figure. There’s no audio, but they’re speaking to each other, gesticulating wildly and pointing at the cafe.

Vegeta really hopes Radditz gets in touch soon, because he’s going to need the brute’s special skill set for the next couple of weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm... who could it be?


	12. Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vegeta apparently doesn't sleep.

Vegeta prints off stills of the two strange figures. So there’s _definitely_ something afoot. He just needs to figure out what it is.  
He speeds up the playback of the tapes and discovers that the same two figures were present on at least four other occasions between 3 and 5 am. It unnerves Vegeta to his very core.  
He thinks about Bulma, alone in the cafe, and decides that he’s found enough evidence in the tapes to call in that favor with Radditz.  
Vegeta rejoins her at the table. The metal of the gun presses against him reassuringly; he’s not sure that whoever these people are won’t try something while he and Bulma are present.  
“Are these more space ship designs?” he asks, casually.  
Bulma glances up at him and smiles. “No, these are a personal project.” She doesn’t elaborate further, and changes the subject. “Did you find anything interesting?”  
Vegeta stifles a yawn. “Might’ve,” he says. Definitely did, he thinks. He realizes that it is nearly four in the morning, and that he doesn’t want Bulma anywhere near here right now. Not when it appears to be prime time for his cafe’s shadowy stalkers to be out and about. He racks his brain for an excuse for both of them to leave.  
“There’s a breakfast place that’s open all night just down the road,” Vegeta says. “And I’m starving. You wanna grab a bite to eat?” 

“What, you don’t trust me in the cafe alone?” Bulma quips. 

Vegeta shrugs. “Wasn’t planning on coming back after, so if you want to stay locked in for the next couple hours until Piccolo opens, be my guest.” 

“Hm, not particularly.” Bulma says, smirking. 

“Shall we, then?” Vegeta says, pointing toward the back door. “We can probably walk if you’d like, it’s pretty close.” 

Vegeta locks the door behind them after setting the alarm. “I used to come to this diner when the shop was still undergoing renos. They have the best smoked salmon omelette I’ve ever tasted.” 

Bulma stays close to his side as they set out into the night, the glow from the street lights illuminating their path. “I’ll have to try it, then,” she smiles. “Though I didn’t expect a 24-hour place to have something as fancy as salmon in their omelettes.” 

“It’s not a chain restaurant, and this area has a lot of around-the-clock shops and industries. They mostly get the night-shifters and the occasional group of rich, drunk college kids looking for good late night food.” 

They approach a stoplight that stays red for an inexplicably long time after hitting the crosswalk button. Bulma turns toward him as they wait.  
“So, what you saw on the security cameras, is it something to worry about?” 

Vegeta regards her coolly, eyeing her sideways at the non-sequitur but not fully turning toward her.  
“I’m not really sure. If it’s thieves, and they want to break in, I think they’d have done it already.”

“Should you talk to the police again?” Bulma suggests. 

“Definitely not,” Vegeta says with more force than he intended. “I’d rather they not get involved. I never have a good time when they’re around.” 

Bulma nods, understanding. “What if Goku handled them for you? He’s good at doing the talking. You don’t have something to hide from them, do you?” 

Vegeta frowns. “Do you think so lowly of me?” he says, narrowing his eyes at the implication. The light changes and they make their way across the road. 

Bulma verbally backpedals, gesturing with her hands that this isn’t what she means. “I’m just saying, if you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear. You won’t accept any of my security team, you won’t talk to the cops, who are _supposed_ to handle this sort of thing, by the way, so the only logical option remaining is that you’ll deal with this yourself.” 

“Your powers of observation unnerve me,” Vegeta grumbles. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll just scare them off so they don’t come back.” 

Bulma frowns back. “Sometimes, you don’t seem to have a very highly developed sense of self-preservation, you know.” 

Vegeta shrugs. “Might not seem like it to you, but I’m just full of surprises. Anyway, here we are. Told you it was close. Ladies first,” he says, opening the door to the quiet diner for her and then following her in. 

The tired-looking host-slash-waiter seats them and provides them their menus. After taking their coffee order, he disappears into the kitchen.  
Bulma watches him leave, then sets her gaze on Vegeta. “Just promise me you’ll be safe, okay?” 

Her concern for his well-being tugs insistently at Vegeta’s heart. He quells the emotion, however, and replaces it with irritation. “I can take care of myself.” 

Bulma’s face softens. “I know,” she says quietly. “I just worry about you sometimes, grumpy.” 

“Why?” he asks, partially to be stubborn at being called grumpy and partially because he actually wants to know why. He’s starting to get used to the fact that people want to be _around_ him on a regular basis, but anything beyond that is still out of his comprehension. 

“I know you’re not one for company, but sometimes it feels like you’re just isolating yourself. And you’re either too proud or too scared to ask anyone for help.” 

“I learned early on that you don’t get too far in life if you always have to rely on other people,” Vegeta says testily. “But I guess I should say thank you for your concern.” 

The waiter returns to take their order. Bulma orders the salmon omelette that Vegeta recommended, and Vegeta orders a steak, eggs, and bacon combo. They drink their coffee in silence until their food arrives, and, wanting to lighten the mood, Bulma exclaims how delicious her omelette is.  
“You have good taste,” she says around a mouthful of food. Then she flags the waiter down and requests hot sauce and mayonnaise. 

Vegeta cringes, having expected the heiress to display _slightly_ better manners in public. The additional flavoring choices hardly phase him, however, since he’s used to those. He slices the steak into appropriately-sized pieces and places it politely in his mouth, savoring the tenderness of it. “I just know what I like,” he replies, though secretly pleased that she appears to love it as much as he does.

There’s more silence as they finish their breakfast, but Bulma sighs contentedly as she pushes her empty plate away from her.  
“I think I may have found my new late-night go-to place,” she announces. 

“Don’t you have personal chefs?” Vegeta enquires. 

“Yeah, but I’m not going to make them get up at ungodly hours just so I can have hashbrowns and coleslaw, you know? Just because I don’t keep normal-people hours doesn’t mean everyone I employ does the same.” 

Vegeta smirks. “Hashbrowns and coleslaw, huh? Do you often get midnight cravings for that?”

“It has been known to happen on occasion,” Bulma says defensively. “But now I can just come here. It’s perfect.”

The waiter swings in with the check, laying it in front of Vegeta. “I can bring a card machine when you’re ready,” he informs them. 

“Oh,” Bulma says. “That was two separate bills, please.”

Vegeta holds up his hand. “No, this is fine. It’s on me. And yes, the machine, if you please.” Bulma protests, but Vegeta shakes his head. “No. My suggestion, my treat.” 

After he pays and they depart, Vegeta checks the time on his phone. It’s a quarter past five in the morning, and he’s looking forward to finally getting some sleep. They walk back to the cafe, their bellies full and moods somewhat improved from before breakfast. The sun begins to peek over the horizon as they walk to the back parking lot.  
“Well, this has been fun,” Bulma says. “I think I’m going to go sleep for a week, now. I haven’t pulled a night _this_ late since I was studying for finals in university.” 

“Mmm,” Vegeta agrees. He glances around the cafe, but there don’t seem to be any signs of activity. Good. “I haven’t done this for at least a decade. I don’t know how I used to do it.” 

Bulma tugs on his wrist. “You must be exhausted, then. Let me drive you home. We can come get your car in the morning.” 

Vegeta’s skin tingles with… something, where her hand makes contact with him. He looks up sharply at her, startled by the sensation. She lets go, but the request - more like a command - stays in her eyes as she waits for his response. Vegeta decides that he’s too tired to argue, and she does have a point.  
“Alright,” he acquiesces. 

When they pull up to the cabin, Vegeta finds that he isn’t particularly inclined to leave Bulma’s company. He hesitates with his hand on the door handle. “Thanks for the ride,” he says finally. “And for the company. It was… nice.”  
Bulma grins. “Any time. I mean it.”  
Vegeta _really_ doesn’t want to go, but his bed beckons to him.  
“I’d say good night,” he says as he finally opens the car door. “But…” he trails off and gestures to the brightening morning landscape. 

“Sleep well, Vegeta,” Bulma says. 

His name sounds better in her voice than in any others he’s ever heard, Vegeta decides.  
“Yeah. You too.” 

And although he draws the curtains to block out the sunlight and goes through his usual bedtime routine to let his mind know it’s time to sleep, Vegeta finds himself lying awake and staring at the ceiling, wondering just when the beautiful, brilliant, blue-haired genius had taken over his thoughts. He has very, very nice dreams that night. 

\---

It’s closing time. It’s Tuesday. Vegeta wants nothing more than to stuff his face with an enormous sandwich and do ten thousand reps. He feels invigorated, more than he has in years. Tonight’s the night. 

He gets home, strips naked and hops into a scalding hot shower. He steps out once he’s clean, swipes the condensation off the mirror, and puts on his best game face. 

He dresses in all black, sliding a beanie on over his spiky hair to tame it. He slips on black gloves, leaving their twin white ones in their undisturbed place on one side of his sock drawer. And finally, almost ceremoniously, he ties a black bandana around the lower half of his face. He does not want to be recognized skulking about.

This morning, Radditz had finally gotten in touch. There was a note on the cafe door. 

_So, the Prince is back. You know where to find me. Midnight.  
-R_

So Vegeta will find him. He opts to leave the Mercedes at home. It’ll make him stick out like a sore thumb, so on foot it is. Just like the good ol’ days. He waits until darkness falls and quietly slips out of his cabin. He keeps to the tree line; and when he reaches the road, he stays to the shadows.  
It takes him half an hour but he finally reaches their old haunt. Memories come flooding back as it comes into view and Vegeta stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure if he’s equipped to deal with being here again. He had spent many a late night here with Radditz and Nappa, planning ops and discussing strategy, but those were different times. He shakes his head to clear it and steels himself. Of course he can do this. 

Vegeta stays out of sight crouched beside some hedges as he awaits Radditz. Only five more minutes until the clock strikes midnight, and then there’s no going back. 

He shows at 12:03. Radditz, whose hair is even longer than Vegeta remembers it, has chosen a similar black outfit. He comes equipped with a backpack and a flashlight. “I check on you every so often,” he explains when Vegeta shoots him a questioning look at the apparent over-preparedness. “And I figured if you were finally breaking radio silence, it was something important. Like cashing in on that favor I owe you. I guess it was hoping too much that you’d forgotten about it.”  
“Always useful to have connections,” Vegeta points out. “So you know that I own a coffee shop, then?”  
Radditz nods. “Getting out of the life has always been the dream.”  
“Not all rainbows and butterflies,” Vegeta says sarcastically. “But listen. I need to know if you’ve heard any chatter. I’ve been reviewing my security footage and I keep getting these two hooded figures showing up between 3-5am just outside the front door. Too dark to get anything useful on them. We were cased a few weeks back, too. It’s got me worried because they haven’t done anything yet. Just checked it out.”  
Radditz shakes his head. “Haven’t heard anything in my circles, but I’ll put out some feelers for you. What are these hooded figures you mentioned?” 

“One’s small. Shorter than I am. The other is tall and slim, but the hoods are dark and pulled over their faces. Here,” Vegeta says, pulling out one of the printouts he’d made. “This is the best image I could get so far.”  
“Yeah, doesn’t do me much good,” Radditz mutters, turning the photo this way and that. “But I guess it’s something. You got a burner?”  
Vegeta quirks an eyebrow. “Of course.”  
“Write the number on the back,” Radditz says, handing him a pencil from his bag of goodies. “I won’t be in contact for a while. I’ve got people to call and places to visit.”  
“You always did like recon work,” Vegeta smiles. 

“Let me drive you home,” Radditz says once they finish catching up - as much as Vegeta wants to catch up on a life he left behind, anyway. “I know you walked. Old habits. You still can’t seem to break ‘em.” 

Vegeta declines the offer, citing the fact that it’s been awhile since he had a good midnight run. And as he jogs home, still keeping to the shadows, he can’t help but feel as though a great weight has been lifted off him. If Radditz of all people hasn’t heard anything about what’s going on, then there probably isn’t anything to worry about at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still interested in your theories on who these two shadowy figures are. 
> 
> Just what are they doing? What do they want with the coffee shop?


	13. Down for the Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what time of year it is? It's November, which means I'll be using future chapters of this fic toward my wordcount for NaNoWriMo. Don't worry, I'll continue to edit as I go (which is against my usual NaNo philosophy, but I'm publishing this, so I need to polish it more) so it won't be riddled with mistakes and plot holes if I can help it. 
> 
> That said, this chapter is the longest one I've posted yet. Enjoy.

Vegeta smiles down at the latte he just poured. The foam is perfect, the crema is evenly toned, and the latte art is _adorable_. He hands it to the waiting customer and even smiles and wishes them a good day. Because it is a good day, dammit.  
It's Sunday. Vegeta and Piccolo have gotten into a certain flow, working in tandem and around each other in the limited space behind the counter. Vegeta heard back from the insurance people this morning and they're paying out every penny owed him. Having grown comfortable in his living arrangement, he decides to put it all into his savings. He's doing pretty good.  
And the day only gets brighter when Bulma stops by for a latte and a visit. It's Piccolo's break first, but he conveniently finds himself in the middle of a task and tells Vegeta to go instead. 

"Someone woke up on the right side of the bed this morning," Bulma chuckles. "I don't think I've seen your disposition this sunny since... well, ever."  
Vegeta shrugs. "Big plans after work," he says. "I asked Kakarot if he'd like to join me at the Capsule Corp gym for a sparring match."  
Bulma goodnaturedly rolls her eyes. "Of course the idea of fighting Goku would cheer you up."  
"I'm a simple man, Bulma. I enjoy simple things, like a good cup of coffee and the chance to wipe that dopey grin off his idiot face. His constant cheerfulness infuriates me to no end."  
"Don't underestimate him," Bulma warns. "But have fun. I know you've been training pretty hard lately."  
"How did you know that?" Vegeta asks. "I haven't seen you in that building since the tour."  
"I have my ways," she replies cryptically. "But enough about that- I have a presentation at a conference next week. All sorts of big names in the STEM sciences will be there. All presenters get a plus-one, there's a free lunch, a dinner party after, and I was wondering if you would be interested in coming with me."  
"You had me at free lunch," Vegeta says. "What are you presenting on?"  
"Remember those plans I was working on in the shop last week?"  
Vegeta nods.  
"I'll reveal them at the conference. I think it's something you'd be interested in." 

Vegeta watches Bulma animatedly gesture her hands around as she describes last year’s conference, which she had attended with Chi-Chi. She’s so excited by the story she’s telling that Vegeta can’t help but feel excitement, too.  
“-And that’s how Dr. Gero was banned for life,” Bulma concludes, shaking her head. “He always was a brilliant man, but this time he just went too far with the pyrotechnics and off-color jokes.”  
Vegeta smiles hesitantly as she grins brightly at him. “But I’m sure _someone_ will take their cue from him this year, so don’t worry, it won’t just be a bunch of stuffy scientists, engineers, and mathematicians. There’s bound to be at least some entertainment.”  
“Where is it, by the way?” Vegeta asks, realizing he’s not sure if it’s actually in town or not. He’ll have to get Goku to fill in for him accordingly.  
“It’s about three hours north,” Bulma says. “So we can either stay up in a Capsule Corp-owned private hotel suite, or we can have my driver take us there and back so we can indulge if we so wish.” The last part she says with a mischievous smile. “And the booze flows freely, so I hope you won’t judge too much if I do.”  
Vegeta’s eyebrows raise at that. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re a lush?”  
Bulma pouts. “A girl’s allowed to have a good time every now and then,” she says in her defense.  
“And I said I hope you don’t judge me.”  
“I never made a promise not to,” Vegeta points out. “But I suppose somebody should be there to keep an eye on you.”  
Bulma rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Some of us like to have fun, Vegeta,” she says. “We can’t all be responsible shop-owners like you.”  
“You’re the heiress to the richest company on earth,” Vegeta says. “You’re presenting at a STEM conference. You’re designing _space ships_ , for god's sake. I could go on.”  
“Okay, but have you ever seen a room full of scientists when there’s free alcohol?”  
Vegeta shakes his head.  
“I thought not. You’ll understand better when you see it. Now, shall we stay overnight or shall we be driven home?”  
“Is there more than one room in this suite you mentioned?” Vegeta asks.  
Bulma nods. “It’s got two rooms, a shared bathroom, and a really great view. It’s our private suite that we use for entertaining and getaways.”  
Vegeta ponders this. “Let’s see how we feel on the night of,” he says. “I’m getting the idea that you wouldn’t do so great with travelling while intoxicated.”  
Bulma frowns again, but this time in contemplation. “Maybe, maybe not. You’re right, we’ll have to see.” 

Vegeta’s phone alarm for the end of his break interrupts their conversation. “Back to the grind,” he mutters.  
Bulma smirks. “Because it’s a coffee shop, right?”  
Vegeta’s eyes go wide. “Is _that_ why Krillin says that every time he starts his shift? Oh my god.”  
Bulma chuckles good-naturedly. “Aw, is your baristas’ bad humor rubbing off on you?”  
Vegeta shakes his head. “We do spend a lot of time in close proximity.” He stands up and re-ties his apron around his waist. “Oh, and if you see him, tell Kakarot to be ready for a beating,” he says confidently and nods a goodbye to Bulma. 

\---

Vegeta clenches a fist around the wraps covering his hands. Adrenalin thrums through his veins; he’s been wanting this ever since he discovered that Goku was as proficient as he was at hand-to-hand. He cracks his knuckles and works the kinks out of his neck with loud popping. 

Goku faces him from across the mat, his body crouched low, stance open in anticipation. “Come at me when you’re ready,” he says. There’s a deadly focus about him that Vegeta has never seen before. If he were a lesser man, he would be worried about the hidden strength his opponent looks to be carrying within him.  
Vegeta circles Goku, who matches him pace for pace and never takes his eyes off him. This is a no-holds-barred match that will end when one of them is down for ten seconds or longer. Though Goku is a great boxer, so Vegeta has heard, they’ve decided upon a mixed fighting style for today. 

“And why don’t you make the first move?” Vegeta says, voice gravelly with excitement and testosterone. “You think I can’t handle what you’ll give me?”  
Goku smirks. “Oh, I know you can’t,” he taunts, then beckons Vegeta with a come-hither motion of his fingers and a raise of his eyebrows.  
Knowing he’s being manipulated, but never one to back down from such a challenge, Vegeta launches himself at Goku in a deft light jab to the right before swinging with his left, aiming for his side.  
Goku, however, is quicker than he looks - he blocks Vegeta’s fist with his elbow and then grabs his wrist and throws him over his shoulder and onto the mat.  
Winded, but not wanting to be bested right at the get-go, Vegeta recovers quickly and swings around. Now knowing not to underestimate his opponent’s speed, he opts to catch Goku off-balance instead.  
The fight takes off in full force. Vegeta may be small, but he’s clever, and while Goku has speed, his size is still a disadvantage to him.  
Launching a full-frontal attack, Vegeta feints around Goku at the last second and body slams him into the ground from the back. Goku, however, won’t be so easily pinned - he gets up with Vegeta still on him and throws the smaller man to the side while he finds his balance.  
They’re gathering a crowd, Vegeta notices while he kicks at Goku in an attempt to trap him into grabbing his foot. When Goku takes the bait, Vegeta drops to the ground, bringing the hulking man down with him.  
Fists meet elbows and well-placed kicks find their mark in a way that seems almost choreographed. Vegeta never was a dancer, but he did have the ability to be light on his feet. However, the choreography of their movements means that neither of them land any significant blows, and Vegeta grows tired. He notices, however, that Goku seems to be slowing down as well.  
Good. He’s tiring the lunk out. If he can only hold on for a bit longer, he can win by attrition.  
His entire plan goes out the window when he sees Bulma at the front of the gathered crowd, observing the fighters with interest. The momentary distraction costs him dearly - Goku lands a well-placed and unanticipated blow right in Vegeta’s gut, and he goes down hard with the unexpected force of it.  
The gathered audience starts counting down from ten as the now-winded Vegeta struggles to find his bearings. He’s splayed out on the floor in the most embarrassing manner possible, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make a valiant effort to get to his feet. Finally, on “three”, he gets to his knees.  
Goku offers his hand, but Vegeta waves him off. A good fighter _and_ a good sport - Vegeta should have guessed. He’s bitter about it, of course.  
He finally stands but he knows it’ll be next to impossible to beat Goku at this point. He’s not at his full strength, even less so than Goku is after the tiring fight. His pride won’t let him do anything but stay on his feet until the very end. But after one more stupid mistake, Goku gets the better of him; Vegeta notices Bulma covering her mouth as he takes a particularly debilitating hit, one he can’t quite deflect in time. He’s able to get in a weak counter attack, but it’s too late: Goku uses the momentum of it to turn the fight in his favor. Vegeta’s eyes flick to Bulma again at the same time Goku’s fist swings up and connects with his lower jaw, putting Vegeta down for the count. 

The audience disperses as Vegeta groans into the mat. “I can’t believe I let you beat me,” he moans.  
Goku drops into a low squat next to Vegeta, his face one of sympathy. “You fought well,” he offers, then sits back on his behind while Vegeta rolls onto his back. “You just seem out of practice, that’s all.”  
Bulma, having not left with everyone else, approaches the two of them. “Good fight, boys,” she says. “But I warned you, Vegeta. Goku is not to be underestimated.”  
Vegeta sits up and grunts in pain. He’s getting too old for this; it’s _definitely_ going to hurt in the morning. A throbbing behind his temples tells him he might have taken that jaw hit a little too hard, as well.  
“I’d love a rematch sometime,” Goku says, standing up with Vegeta. “I’ll keep training if you keep training.”  
Vegeta nods his assent. “I’ll be ready for you next time, Kakarot,” he mutters. “You fought very well. I’m impressed.” He mutters the last part nearly under his breath; it hurts his pride to have lost in such a humiliating way not only to _Goku_ of all people, but in front of Bulma and many of Capsule Corp’s employees, as well.  
Bulma, for her part, stays by Vegeta’s side as he takes a deep breath. Goku waves at them as he heads back to the locker room to shower and change.  
“You okay? You look a little unsteady,” Bulma says.  
Vegeta dismisses her concerns with a wave of his hand. “Not used to it. Been a while,” he grunts. Still, the chance to have fought again thrills him. He’s going to devote all his extra time to being here in the gym, enhancing the power and speed of his attacks.  
Extra time, that is, in addition to the time he spends seeing Bulma and the rest of them. They’ll be a necessary distraction against the single mindedness with which Vegeta typically approaches his goals. 

“Let me walk you back,” Bulma says. It’s not a request, and Vegeta has a feeling she’d do it anyway, even if he did decline. So he just shrugs and motions for the door with a tilt of his head.

“Go have a shower. I’ll make you some tea,” Bulma says once they’re inside. She followed Vegeta in and it never crossed his mind that he hadn’t even invited her into the cabin. He nods, making to strip out of his clothes before he realizes what he’s doing and changes in the privacy of the bathroom instead.  
The steaming hot shower feels good against the muscles that will be aching something fierce the next day. It’s a good ache, though, and one Vegeta hasn’t felt in a long time. He’s been getting lax in his workout regimen, he realizes. Time to up the ante.  
He puts on the pair of jeans he brought in with him and opens the bathroom door. Steam pours out into the small cabin and follows him as he walks into the kitchen. Bulma sits at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea in front of her and one at the empty place across from her. 

Their eyes meet and Vegeta can’t figure out why Bulma gapes at him. He stares at her a moment longer before looking away, her scrutiny feeling almost unbearable in the aftermath of his defeat.  
He doesn’t notice her cheeks reddening, or the fact that, as he sits in the open spot at the table, she tries to look anywhere but at him. “I could’ve beaten him once upon a time,” he mutters. “Would’ve been easy.”  
Bulma finally drags her eyes back to him and gives him a sympathetic smile, and he hates it. He doesn’t want her sympathy.  
“I don’t doubt that,” she says, and takes a sudden interest in the mug of tea in her hands. “Goku is just naturally talented. If he wanted to, or if he just set his mind to it, he could really make something of himself. Instead, he’s content to train his ass off at the gym and be assistant manager in a coffee shop.”  
“That does explain all these latte art championships that Piccolo has told me he’s winning,” Vegeta muses.  
Bulma sighs. “I mean, if it makes him happy and pays the bills, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”  
“Not everybody wants to be destined for great things,” Vegeta says. “Some people just want a comfortable life where they can be in control of who and what surrounds them.”  
Realizing that he’s not really speaking about Goku anymore, Bulma hums quietly in response. “I guess it is nice not to have to worry about a million different things at once,” she agrees. “The high life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. There are so many expectations.”  
A long silence stretches out between them as Vegeta contemplates into his mug. He glances up at Bulma to see her doing the same, a melancholy, far away expression having settled on her face. Vegeta considers the sheer magnitude of responsibility that she, as an heiress to a multi-billion dollar corporation, must face: hundreds of employees to be responsible for, societal expectations to meet, and creating constant innovation to stay ahead in a cutthroat world. Vegeta doesn’t envy her hectic life. What he does envy is the fact that Bulma got to grow up in a world where she never had to wonder where the next meal was coming from, if she could trust her closest friends, and if her life was worth anything to the people who kept her alive. 

_Guess there’s no such thing as the perfect life_ , Vegeta thinks.  
“Do you ever want to just run away from it all?” he asks.  
Bulma furrows her brow at her tea. “I couldn’t,” she starts, before Vegeta interrupts.  
“But don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to live another life, to be somebody else? Haven’t you ever lain awake at night, imagining what your life would be like if you didn’t have…” he waves his hand around to indicate the estate, “All this?” He fails to keep the bitterness from his voice.  
“Do you?” Bulma counters. “Want to be someone else?”  
Vegeta levels his gaze at her, the kind that he hasn’t used in a very long time. It makes her shiver uncomfortably in her seat from the sheer chilliness of it. She begins to speak again, an apology, Vegeta thinks, but he cuts her off.  
“I already am somebody else.” 

Well, if Vegeta had known that dropping a truth bomb on her was the way to render Bulma speechless, he’d have done it ages ago. She gapes at him, and he stares back at her. It takes all his willpower not to look away, and when she’s the one to do so, he continues looking at her for a few moments longer to drive his point home.  
“If you knew me then…” Vegeta starts, quietly. If she knew him then, what? She’d scream, then turn and run back to her cushy life with her cushy and not-at-all bloody job? There’s an aching in his chest as he realizes that their life experiences are worlds apart, that she could never understand what he’s been through no matter how much she tries.  
“I didn’t,” Bulma surprises him by saying. “But I know you now. And I believe that people change. It’s part of growing as a person. I’m not proud of the person I was ten years ago, either, Vegeta, but she and I are the same being. There would be no me without her. I’ve learned from my past, I use it to move on to bigger and better things. You clearly have done the same.” 

Vegeta swallows, not wanting to face the fact that Bulma appears to think of him as a good person. He decides upon an abrupt subject change. That’s enough introspection for one lifetime.  
“So how are we getting to this conference of yours?” 

By now, Bulma is used to Vegeta being uncomfortable under scrutiny. It’s okay, though, because maybe she’s finally getting it through his thick skull that she enjoys his company and wants him around. So, non-plussed by his shutdown, she replies, “Let’s have my driver take us up. The limo is really comfortable. We can still stay in the suite overnight if we want to.”  
Vegeta tilts his head to the side. “You didn’t want to bring the Lamborghini?”  
“As much fun as it is to drive, no. I don’t want to drive back home if I have a hangover.”  
“Could always let me drive it,” Vegeta grins evilly. “I promise I won’t crash it too hard.”  
“I think I’ll pass,” Bulma says, glad for the change of tone to their conversation. Light-hearted is what she does best, as much as she’d like to pry into Vegeta’s life story. 

As she leaves later that evening, Vegeta sighs inwardly. Something about the way she’s just so damn willing to _listen_ to him and to challenge him keeps making him open up to her in ways he had never planned or wanted to. It’s getting to be a problem. 

The chiming of his burner phone from his bedroom brings him back down to earth. It’s only been a few days, so this must mean that Radditz has found something important. Vegeta practically sprints back inside to check the message. 

_There’s been chatter. No one’s saying anything specific. Looks like a big name is on the lookout for new meat shields after a shootout last week. Being kept on the downlow, but looks like some of our old buddies were involved._

A chill runs through Vegeta. There are some who say that you can take the man out of the life, but you can’t take the life out of the man. Vegeta will be damned if he hasn’t tried, but sometimes the life comes ringing when you least expect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. 
> 
> Continue with the theories. Your comments inspire me to write, and I love talking to all of you! A huge shoutout to my regulars, you guys are the best. And to new readers and lurkers: thank you for sticking it out with me as I continue to update this story as quickly as I can. We're heading toward something pretty major, here, and I'm excited to share it with all of you.


	14. Black and Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thank yous to neala-ernswa of tumblr for being a wonderful beta. Let's be real, she just loves getting to pre-read the Google doc where I keep this story. 
> 
> Also, I named the chapter and realized it's a little bit of a pun, cuz of Vegeta and Bulma's hair. Get it? Eh? ;)

As expected, Vegeta wakes up the next day feeling like he got hit by a truck. A truck named Kakarot. The whole ordeal has Vegeta wishing he were twenty again with the way his body creaks and groans. Thank god he doesn’t have to work today.   
He gingerly climbs out of bed and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The best way to keep muscles limber, even when they hurt like hell, is to use them. So he lays back on the floor, hooks his feet under the bed, and attempts a sit up. It goes disastrously, of course. He’s halfway up and it feels like he’s been put through the wringer; he can hardly breathe. He falls backward and lays flat on his back for a moment, trying to catch his breath.   
Breakfast now, sit ups later, Vegeta decides. He throws together a smoothie and sits at his kitchen table. The soreness seems almost out of place, with the fact that Vegeta works out regularly and isn’t the most kind to himself with his regimen some days. Sighing after finishing the last drops of the smoothie, he shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.   
Ah. That’s why.   
Vegeta gazes as the naked upper half of his body with his mouth set in a hard line. There are bruises _everywhere_. Each hit that Goku landed on him now swells across his skin in shades of blue and purple. He looks like a damn impressionist painting, and will even more so as the bruises fade to green and yellow. Only time will heal these, so he might as well make the most of his day off and relax a little. After a basic workout, of course.

Vegeta is in the middle of a set of pull ups when there’s a knock at the door. He slides a shirt on, turns down his music, and opens the door to see a dripping wet Bulma on his doorstep. He lets her in because at some point during the morning, it started to pour rain and he doesn’t want to leave her outside where she could catch cold. Especially wearing what she’s wearing. A thin sweater with no waterproofing isn’t going to do anybody much good in this weather.  
“Does your lab’s roof have a leak?” he asks wryly. “This is my one day off this week.”   
“Sorry,” Bulma says, and looks like she means it. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Training, I see,” she says, eyeing the mat on the floor.   
“Yes. That’s the plan for today. I might also go for a run later,” he says.   
“You’re a brave one,” Bulma says, shaking her head. “I can’t do rain. I get way too cold, my clothes get sopping wet, and it’s a bad time all around.” She gestures to herself to prove her point.  
“I can’t let a little drizzle stop me if I’m going to be at the top of my game,” Vegeta says. “But let me get you a towel before you drip all over the place. I’m going to keep training, but you can stay if you really want to.”  
Bulma accepts the towel he gives her and dries her hair, causing it to stick out in all directions. It’s endearing to see her not looking like her usual perfectly crafted self, Vegeta thinks. Bulma nods and puts the kettle on like she owns the place - which she does, of course, but she still makes herself right at home in his space.   
“Mind if I make some coffee?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at Vegeta as she pulls the French press down from its spot in the cupboard and searches for the coffee beans.   
“Make some for me, too,” Vegeta says. He puts his music back on and turns the volume down to a comfortable level so as not to blast out Bulma’s eardrums. Then he grabs hold of the pull up bar and gets back to work; this is only set two of five, and there are 20 reps each. 

 

Vegeta puts all his effort into not showing any pain as he counts out the set. Sure, Bulma saw him get his ass handed to him yesterday, but that doesn’t mean she has to know just how badly it’s affecting him this morning. With his intense focus on form alone, he doesn’t notice the way Bulma watches him.   
Or the way her mouth is open, jaw having gone slack.   
Or the concern in her face as she watches his shirt uncover his midriff every time he lowers himself back down, arms raised overhead.   
She finally comments when he finishes the second set and his feet are back on solid ground. “You’re covered in bruises. That must hurt,” she says.   
“No, I’m fine,” Vegeta argues. He grabs the bar, stares at her, and does one steady pull up just to prove her wrong. The fact that it hurts like a bitch is another matter entirely. He’s had a lifetime to perfect the skill of masking any and all pain to the outside world.  
“They’re all over you,” Bulma points out. “And you don’t have to act all tough-guy around me. I know you, Vegeta. It’s okay.”   
Vegeta doesn’t _pout_ , per se, but he does give her a small frown. “You interrupted my workout,” he says. “I’m not acting tough, I was doing this before you arrived. I’ll continue after you leave.”   
Bulma, however, gives him a knowing look. “I came prepared,” she says, as if he hasn’t spoken at all. She digs around in her oversized purse and procures a small tube of cream. “It’s arnica. It’ll bring the bruises out a lot quicker than usual.”   
“I know what arnica does,” Vegeta sighs.   
“So let me put some on you,” Bulma commands. “It’s for your own good. Don’t be one of those guys who refuses medical attention just to seem like they’re resilient and strong.”   
Vegeta rolls his eyes. “Really, woman, it’s fine,” he growls. As much as he doesn’t mind her company, her presence here at this moment is really starting to irritate him. She walks over to him anyway, and puts some of the cream on her hands.   
“Lift your shirt,” she says.   
If it weren’t for the matter-of-fact way she demanded it, Vegeta’s face might have turned much redder than it already is at having her dote on him like this. Thankful for the fact that the workout has already gotten his blood pumping, therefore giving him an excuse for the blush spreading across his face, he acquiesces. It’s the only way he’ll get her off his case. He lets her know his displeasure the entire time, however, by keeping the frown on his face. 

 

Bulma watches with bated breath as Vegeta lifts the hem of his shirt. The hard muscles underneath reveal themselves, undulating with each breath Vegeta takes. The bruises cover his entire torso, she realizes, and she reaches out to spread the arnica on the largest one. He doesn’t even flinch, but Bulma can tell that he’s tense. 

 

Once she’s finished, Vegeta lowers his shirt with a sigh. “Your kettle is boiling,” he points out, then turns his back to Bulma to continue. Had he imagined the way she touched him? Her fingers had felt soothing on the tender spots after the initial jolt of pain, but she had handled him tenderly, reverently - as though he were a delicate flower. It both thrills and irritates him.

 

Bulma washes her hands of the cream. She’d known he was absolutely ripped, but the pure strength she felt in him was something else entirely. And the scars she had seen…   
She doesn’t turn back toward him until after she finishes grinding the coffee, putting it in the press, and pouring water over it. She then sets the timer on the microwave for five minutes before turning back to Vegeta.  
“Does it bother you?” she asks.  
He quirks an eyebrow. “Does what bother me?”   
“When I drop by like this. I know you prefer your privacy, but…” she trails off, adding, in her head, _I know we enjoy each other’s company. A lot._  
Vegeta hums. “Sometimes. But if you let me do what I need to do, then whatever.” He waves his hand to dismiss the thought and reaches for the pull up bar again to begin another set.   
The timer beeps just after Vegeta finishes set number three. Maybe he’ll stop here for today and finish off with a run. A cold, refreshing run. That’ll cool down the heat that surges through him and rests on his skin defiantly.   
First, though, a cup of coffee. He saunters over to the table as Bulma plunges the grounds through the water, finishing the French process. Today is not a cream and sugar sort of day. Today is a black coffee sort of day.   
“Do you run?” he finds himself asking as Bulma pours him a cup.   
“On occasion,” Bulma says. “But like I said, not in the rain.”   
“Wuss,” Vegeta says into the coffee, disguising it with sipping noises as Bulma mock-glares at him. He smirks at her, enjoying the fire in her eyes as he challenges her. “I bet you couldn’t even run a five mile without getting winded,” he teases.   
Bulma slams down her mug, some of the coffee sloshing out the side. “I’ll have you know I’m very fit,” she says. “I’m just not all about building muscle like you are.”   
“I do cardio, too. Good for the heart,” Vegeta says, tapping his fist against his chest. He sips his coffee and watches her over the rim of the mug, delighting quietly to himself as the fiery Bulma he knows her to be comes to the fore.   
“You’re insufferable!” Bulma says, gesturing at him. She stands to get a paper towel and clean up the mess she made on the table.   
“Enjoy your run in the rain, though. I should probably get back to the lab. Especially seeing that those bruises don’t seem to have affected you any.”   
She downs the rest of her coffee and rinses the mug before placing it in the dishwasher.   
“Don’t hurt yourself any more, okay?” she says in her parting words before closing the front door behind her. As soon as she’s out of Vegeta’s line of sight, she glances skyward. The rain has stopped, the sun peeks through the clouds, and Bulma bites her lip because _damn_.

 

Vegeta finishes his coffee alone. Once he’s certain Bulma must have made it back to the main building, he ties on his running shoes and sets out. Though the rain has stopped, the scent of it remains in the morning air. The wet pavement splashes back up and coats his calves with a thin layer of water as he runs down the driveway to the road. He had nearly invited Bulma on the run with him, breaking his long-standing personal tradition of training alone. He can’t figure out what it is about her that makes him behave so damn erratically.   
Vegeta is so absorbed with trying to figure out the enigma that are his feelings toward Bulma that he doesn’t realize his feet have carried him all the way to the cafe. He stops short at the light just across the street from it, and decides that he might as well pop in for a drink of water. 

 

When Vegeta enters the cafe, Yamcha is chatting with a pretty customer and Piccolo frowns at a clipboard while looking at the pastry case. Vegeta takes his usual seat on one of the bar stools. Piccolo, spotting him, sets down the clipboard and makes his way over.  
“I was just about to call you,” he says. “We keep running out of everything on the weekends. We need to hire a weekend baker because I can’t do it all myself.”   
“We could make Yamcha do it,” Vegeta says, eyeing the barista as he continues chatting. Something he says makes the pretty woman giggle and blush.   
Piccolo shrugs, tilting his head at Yamcha then shooting Vegeta a doubtful look. “I don’t think he’s responsible enough, honestly,” he says. “But who knows. Maybe it’ll be good for him.”   
Vegeta requests a glass of water and adds that to his mental checklist of things to look into the next day during his office hours. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few more people on staff. The cafe is becoming busier, and many of the baristas are overworked as it is. And he, Goku, and Piccolo all pull very long days, being the only supervisors. Vegeta knows he wouldn’t mind going down to a regular eight hour day from the twelve-hour ones he’s been doing for the past three months or so.  
“Let’s have a meeting with Kakarot next week. Are you available on Tuesday morning?”   
Piccolo nods. “Yeah, I can be here early.”   
They agree on a time, Vegeta finishes his water, and then bids Piccolo goodbye - Yamcha, having noticed his boss in the shop, sheepishly gets back to work as the customer leaves. Vegeta shakes his head with a sigh. Not everyone has an impeccable work ethic, but that can be easily remedied. 

 

\---

 

For the Z Cafe’s three month anniversary the next Friday, Goku brings in freshly-baked cupcakes. Chi-Chi and Bulma made them together, of course, but he bears them proudly nonetheless. They come with an assortment of toppings, including cream cheese and vanilla.   
Vegeta chooses a chocolate cupcake with cream cheese icing. It’s the single indulgence he’ll allow himself. Tomorrow is the conference, and he doesn’t want to feel bloated all night tonight. Bulma’s driver will be arriving at six in the morning. 

 

Bulma arrives at the cafe just as Vegeta leaves - early, for once, letting Goku train Chiaotzu and Krillin how to close alone. “Alright, you’re comin’ with me,” she announces. “Get in the car.”   
The Lamborghini’s passenger door opens upward and Bulma walks around to the other side. 

 

Vegeta shrugs and climbs in. There might be some person in the world in his position who wouldn’t jump at the chance for a ride in a hot car next to a beautiful lady, but it sure as hell ain’t him.   
“I had a tuxedo made for you,” Bulma says conversationally as she pulls out of the lot. “But my seamstress lives a little ways away, so I thought we’d take my car today.”   
“You… had a tux made? How do you know my measurements?” Vegeta frowns.   
“I’m very good at what I do,” Bulma says, resolutely deciding not to elaborate on the fact that she’d spent a little too much time observing him. 

 

They pull up in front of a small house on the east side of the city twenty minutes later. Mid-day traffic on Friday is bad, Vegeta notes, and he’s glad he didn’t have to navigate it himself. The entire ride over, Bulma tells Vegeta more about what to expect the next day.   
“It’s a fancy event in the evening,” she says, “So everyone might _seem_ stuffy at first. Just roll with it. They’ll loosen up as the evening moves forward.”   
“What about during the day?” Vegeta asks. “Is it like a seminar, where we just sit and listen?”   
“It is,” Bulma admits, “But if you’re into that sort of thing, the presentations can get _really_ interesting.”   
Vegeta shrugs. He’s no scientist, but he doesn’t mind educating himself. He enjoys it, even. 

 

Bulma leads him to her seamstress’s studio at the back of the house. “I know it’s small and out of the way, but trust me. My mom’s been using her since she was younger, and she’s incredible.”   
That’s how Vegeta finds himself standing on a small platform in front of a mirror while a small Chinese woman circles him and tuts whenever he tries to move his arms into a more comfortable position. He feels like a mannequin on display.   
“If you move,” the seamstress says, “The pins will prick you. So don’t move.”   
Vegeta obeys. He does it begrudgingly, but he obeys. 

 

Vegeta regards his reflection. He nearly doesn’t recognize himself because he’s never had the occasion to dress up like this. The fanciest he’s ever worn was a cheap, rented suit, and it was ill-fitting and itchy as hell. This, however? This is nice. He could do without the restricting bowtie around his neck, but he’ll only have to endure that for a couple of hours in the evening. If everyone gets as relaxed as Bulma says they will, he might even get away with loosening it.

 

“Final adjustments will take one hour,” the seamstress informs Bulma. “I need to take out the seams. He is too big for the jacket.”   
Bulma nods. “We can wait.”   
The seamstress pulls the curtain around Vegeta so he can change back into his clothing in privacy. When he’s finished, Bulma is nowhere to be seen.   
“I will have my husband make you tea,” the seamstress informs him. “Please follow me upstairs.” 

 

The seamstress’s husband is a slight man. He smiles warmly at Vegeta as his wife introduces them. Bulma already sits at the kitchen table, watching the two men shake hands.   
“Come, sit, I’ll make you tea,” he says, inviting Vegeta into the kitchen to sit with Bulma, who then excuses herself to use the washroom.   
“So, is this for your wedding?” the man asks Vegeta.   
“N-no,” Vegeta stutters, possibly for the first time in his life. “We are attending an event tomorrow.”   
“Ah. You’re a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”   
“We aren’t a couple,” Vegeta mutters.   
The man merely smiles and attends to his tea-making. When Bulma returns, he sets a teapot and two small handleless cups on the table next to them.   
“Please excuse me. I have other matters to attend to.”   
With that, he makes himself scarce and leaves the two of them alone. 

 

“I can’t believe you’re too big for the jacket. I know you’re ripped, but this is something else,” Bulma says, shaking her head and prodding his arm.  
“I wear t-shirts at work,” Vegeta says. “You know what my arms look like.”   
“Well, were you flexing the entire time she had you in that jacket then? Because it was really tight, and I’m usually not so off when I estimate measurements.”   
“I might have been a little tense. There were sharp things pointed at me,” Vegeta says in his defense. 

 

After forty five minutes, the seamstress beckons them back to her studio. The tux jacket now fits Vegeta much better in the arms; the too-tight sensation of before is gone and he finds that it actually feels pretty comfortable.   
The seamstress kisses him and Bulma on the cheek as they leave. “Say hello to your dear mother for me!” she calls at them as they make their way back to the car.   
Bulma turns to grin and wave. “I will!” 

 

Vegeta holds the garment bag on his lap in the car. “This is so fancy,” he mutters and plays with the bowtie.   
“I know, it’s not like you at all,” Bulma quips. “But you clean up real nice. The ladies will be falling all over you.”   
At one time in his life, Vegeta might have liked that. He was young and foolish, once, and didn’t know how to speak to girls. Of course he had fantasized about the very situation Bulma described. But now, he finds he couldn’t care less if women like him or not.  
Well, except one. And she seems to think the world of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. The boy is falling hard and he doesn't even know it yet.


	15. Conference Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gigantic thank you to [Ann_Ominous](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Ominous) for her insightful comments on this one. It was a doozy to write, and she helped me rework some important parts. I'm really grateful for that! I'm her beta for her story, Can you see me? which is another Vegebul AU that you should really check out. <3
> 
> The long-awaited conference chapter is upon us. With this comes a rating change for some thematic content. This story probably won't be going above a T rating, but I hope to keep you all engaged anyway. 
> 
> I know I keep saying that the current chapter is the longest one yet, but this one actually is. It clocked in at 4400 words when it was in its raw form, and editing saw another 200 or so added. So without further ado, I present to you, Conference Calling.

Vegeta dresses in a black shirt and slacks for the car ride up north. Once the limousine arrives to pick him up (at 6 am on the dot, too. He admires the efficiency), he hangs the garment bag containing his tux and dress shoes in the small closet in the back. The Briefs really have spared no expense, he notes, taking in the scene around him.  
A scene which includes a very sleepy Bulma dressed in a smart skirt and top combination that teases at the curves underneath. Vegeta doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so striking as she does this morning. He nudges her awake and hands her a travel mug.  
“Wha’ssis?” she slurs, her grogginess more than evident.  
“A caramel and raspberry latte,” Vegeta says. “With extra espresso. It’ll wake you right up.”  
Bulma cups the warm mug in her hands. “That’s… really thoughtful of you,” she says. “But caramel and raspberry?”  
“You always like weird flavor combinations. Might as well try a new one.”  
“Where did you even get the equipment to make this?”  
“Do you really think that I, Vegeta, owner of a successful coffee shop, wouldn’t have a home espresso machine? Besides, I knew you’d be tired,” he says.  
Bulma stares at Vegeta with something unreadable in her eyes. He finds himself growing uncomfortable under the attention, and sips his own cappuccino to distract himself.  
The trip is mostly uneventful. Despite the caffeine, Bulma naps at least half of the way there. Vegeta himself must have fallen asleep because he feels the limousine slow as it takes an off-ramp from the highway, and the driver announces that they are nearly there.

 

“There” meaning the hotel, since the conference doesn’t start until eleven and it’s only nine in the morning. The bellhops take their overnight bags, and the driver pulls away from the curb as soon as Vegeta shuts the door behind him. The hotel itself is far too extravagant for Vegeta’s taste, but as long as it’s not on his dime, he doesn’t care. An elegant sign near the top of the building tells Vegeta that this is the Shenron, one of an elite chain of hotels with seven location all over the globe.  
“Let’s get breakfast,” Bulma suggests, seeming much more awake now.  
Vegeta nods, still trying to take in his surroundings. He follows her up the stairs into a massive lobby. The decor is ornate, but tasteful. It has an authentic feel rather than the gaudy imitation-expensive type decorations in the hotels he’s been to for business trips.  
A man waiting by the front desk approaches them with a mimosa in either hand. “Miss Briefs! Welcome. We were delighted to hear you would be making use of your family’s suites for the conference this weekend. And who is this?”  
“This is Vegeta,” Bulma says, stepping aside to let the two men shake hands after relieving him of one of the mimosas. “He’s my plus one for this year. Vegeta, this is George, the owner of the Shenron. He’s been a friend of the family for years.”  
Vegeta nods after shaking George’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” he says formally. He takes the mimosa offered him and follows as George leads them to the elevator. “Should either of you require anything, our front desk is only a phone call away, day or night. Breakfast is available until 10:30. Please do enjoy your stay.” 

 

“He seems… pleasant,” Vegeta says once the elevator doors are closed. He looks down at the mimosa in his hand, pondering if he should actually drink it or not. The gleaming tile on the floor of the elevator reflects his incredulous expression.  
“He’s always been good to us,” Bulma says. Her mimosa is already half-gone. “And I can’t argue with alcohol before noon on a day like today. I’m going to need it.”  
“Why?”  
“For the presentation. I always get a little bit of stage fright.”  
“Really? You?” Vegeta says. “You’re the most outgoing person I know. You never shut up.”  
“Thanks,” Bulma says, the word dripping with sarcasm.  
“You’re welcome,” Vegeta says with all seriousness.  
Bulma downs the rest of her drink just as the elevator finally reaches their floor. It opens directly into the suite once she punches in a code. The suite has huge bay windows offering a panoramic view of the city. Their bags are already stacked neatly just inside. A gentle woodland fragrance wafts through the room, and Vegeta finds himself relaxing from tension he didn’t even know he had. 

 

“Do you want to go back down for breakfast, or shall we have it brought up?” Bulma asks, flopping down onto the couch and turning on the television.  
Vegeta doesn’t immediately answer because he’s too busy exploring the suite. It’s basically a full-sized apartment - one with higher square footage than the one he lost in the fire - and has a full kitchen, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a spacious den. He wanders over to the window to find that there’s a balcony that’s large enough to hold at least twenty people comfortably.  
“Vegeta?” Bulma reminds him.  
“Oh. Breakfast, yeah,” Vegeta says, opening the door and stepping outside. The early morning sun reflects off a lake behind the hotel and sends it shimmering like diamonds. The grounds are covered with lush foliage, and it reminds him of the flora at Capsule Corp. “Breakfast sounds good. Let’s have it brought up.”  
He steps back inside and Bulma is already on the phone. She orders a sampler for two as well as for a pitcher of sangria to be brought to the suite later that night.  
“You know,” he says once she hangs up. “You’re not doing much to convince me you’re not a lush.”  
“I’m just jittery. Let me live a little, would you?” Bulma snaps. Then she looks at Vegeta’s mimosa sitting forlornly on the kitchen counter. “Are you gonna finish that?”  
Vegeta eyes Bulma, then the drink, then Bulma again. “...Yes.” He downs the entire drink in two gulps and turns away so that she doesn’t see the sour face he makes as the tangy citrus flavor hits him all at once. He can’t stand orange juice.

 

\---

 

After breakfast, Bulma leads him to the conference center next door to the hotel. The auditorium is enormous. Vegeta can’t quite fathom why such a large gathering would choose the small city as their meeting place. Probably something about the rustic mountain view. Bulma leads him to their assigned seats, in the middle and a mere six rows from the front.  
“You didn’t want front row?” Vegeta questions.  
Bulma shakes her head. “It’s a more comfortable angle here. No sore necks for us this year.” 

 

The opening comments begin at precisely 11. Vegeta doesn’t pay much attention because it’s mostly just “Thank you to all our sponsors” followed by a long list of said sponsors. The first two presentations are succinct and deal with some theoretical physics that’s slightly outside of Vegeta’s grasp.  
“When’s your presentation?” he whispers to Bulma in the middle of a talk about the ethics of genetic modification of primates.  
“After lunch,” she whispers back. “Which is at 1:30. Don’t eat too much or you’ll fall asleep. And make sure you grab a water bottle. It gets _really_ hot in here.”  
Vegeta takes note of her advice and checks his phone. It’s noon now, which means he has to endure another hour and a half of this. He hopes the interesting demonstrations that Bulma mentioned show themselves soon. 

 

Vegeta’s stomach grumbles at the mere announcement that lunch time has finally arrived. As the rush of people leaving their seat turns into a swell of bodies vying to get to the tables first, Vegeta barely manages to stay next to Bulma. After nearly getting separated from her twice, he has half a mind to grab her hand just to keep close. They make it through the throng, however, and the crowd thins out as everyone finds their places at the table. Their spots are marked with place cards. As soon as everyone is seated, a line of waiters brings out serving trays with a variety of soups, salads, and sandwiches. The scent of freshly baked herb bread fills the room and Vegeta digs in as soon as his plate is set in front of him. 

 

Across the table from Bulma and Vegeta are two of the speakers who actually gave somewhat interesting talks this morning. Vegeta listens quietly while staring down into his soup as Bulma chats with them animatedly about the pros and cons of different types of propulsion and aerodynamic design. 

 

Once lunch is over and they return to the auditorium, Vegeta feels a lot better about facing the rest of the day. With his belly full, at least he’ll be able to nap through the most boring speeches if necessary. After Bulma’s presentation, of course. He won’t miss that.  
Bulma walks Vegeta to their seat and then waves goodbye as she continues on toward the door next to the stage. The sooner her presentation is, the better, Vegeta thinks. He doesn’t enjoy the feeling of being alone in such a huge crowd.  
After the announcer outlines the afternoon’s topics, he introduces Bulma to the audience. The lights shine on her as she walks confidently on stage. After making some joke about last year’s conference that Vegeta doesn’t understand, she launches right into her presentation. 

 

“As many of you know, Capsule Corp has been in the news a lot lately. We’ve made major breakthroughs with regard to deep space travel, but the question plaguing us still remained: How do we counter the negative effects of living in a weightless environment for an extended mission?  
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, I am standing before you today to introduce to you a technology like none we’ve ever seen before.”  
As she speaks the last sentence, the wall making up the back of the stage splits open and slides away, revealing a large domelike structure.  
“I present to you the Capsule Corp. Gravity Chamber. Utilizing the principles of a Faraday cage, we have discovered how to reverse electromagnetic output and concentrate it into a small room. What you see behind me is the first prototype of the gravity chamber, which, after conducting extensive tests, will launch into orbit for its first off-planet trial run as early as next year.”  
Bulma explains some of the deeper science involved in the creation of the gravity chamber, and as her presentation winds down, she grins. “The best part about this technology, however, is that we do not have to wait decades before we are able to utilize it in our daily lives. No. With our labs working around the clock, we have invented ways to use the gravitational technology right here on earth. We’re talking faster travel, more efficient signal enhancers, and even training rooms for athletes.” Vegeta isn’t sure if the look she gives in his direction is intentional or not.  
After concluding her presentation, Bulma basks in the applause for several moments before leaving the stage. Minutes later, after the announcer introduces the next speaker and the next talk is underway, Bulma reappears from the door next to the stage. She looks flushed, but her grin stretches from ear to ear.  
Vegeta feels the familiar glow of pride, but for possibly the first time in his life, it’s on behalf of someone else. As Bulma returns to her seat, he gives her a nod and a small smile.  
The rest of the conference passes quickly - Bulma was right, it does get hot, and Vegeta is glad to have listened to her advice to bring water. The presentations become much more interesting as the promised theatrics finally come into play. One presenter even uses a laser show to in his demonstration.

 

The conference ends at 5, with dinner at 6:30. Bulma grabs Vegeta’s wrist and rushes to the hotel as soon as she can. “I have to take a shower before dinner,” she says to him as they finally stop once they reach the elevator. “And then I have to get ready.” 

 

Once inside the suite, Bulma brings her dress into the spacious bathroom with her. As she showers, Vegeta begins changing into his tux. He fumbles around with the bowtie and finally gives up altogether when his frustration wins over. Muttering at the black fabric, he marches over to the bathroom and knocks on the door. The shower water stopped a while ago, so he reasons that Bulma is available to help him with it. 

 

Bulma opens the door to reveal that she has not, in fact, gotten dressed. Vegeta’s eyes go wide and he turns away, trying to hide the flush on his face. “You could have put on some clothing,” he mutters.  
“The towel covers everything important,” Bulma says, using a separate towel to dry her long hair. “But did you need in? I can finish changing in my room.”  
Vegeta, still looking away, shakes his head. “I can’t get the bow tie done up,” he admits.  
“Here, give it to me,” Bulma says, taking it from his hands. She flips the collar of his shirt up and wraps the tie around his neck, then gets up on her tiptoes to fasten it. Her fingers work swiftly with the silk fabric and as she finishes, Vegeta lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  
Bulma flips the collar back down and straightens everything out, standing back when she’s finish to admire her handiwork.  
“Thanks,” Vegeta says, turning away. “I’ll let you finish getting ready.”  
“I won’t be too much longer, I promise,” Bulma says, smiling shyly and closing the bathroom door. 

 

True to her word, she emerges ten minutes later, fastening a sparkling teardrop shaped diamond earring to her ear. Vegeta’s jaw drops. He knew that she was objectively attractive, but this is something else. She wears a long, shimmering red evening gown with a neckline that dips playfully and thin straps that reveal her delicate shoulders. Had he thought she was stunning in her earlier outfit? Well, yes, but this ensemble blows that one completely out of the water.  
“Are you ready?” she asks, finding her heels and slipping them on.  
Vegeta swallows and nods, turning away to collect himself and call the elevator. When it arrives and the door opens, he gestures for her to go in first.  
“You look good,” Bulma says, smiling up at him and adjusting his bowtie again.  
Vegeta swallows hard and looks away. “Thanks. So do you,” he mutters, as if it isn’t the understatement of the century. He finds himself staring at the floor number as it ticks downward, and he stiffens as Bulma’s arm slips through his.  
“Thank you for accompanying me tonight,” she says to him as they reach the main level. “Normally I’d get Goku to come along, but he and Chi-Chi had other plans for the weekend.”  
Vegeta nods. “Don’t mention it,” he says. 

 

The limousine is waiting for them as they exit the hotel. The driver opens the door for the two of them, and Vegeta helps Bulma step into the vehicle, taking care that her dress does not get caught in the door. The drive to the gala does not take long. As they pull up in front of the building, Vegeta uncomfortably notes that there are way too many people with cameras crowding along the edges of the red carpet leading inside.  
“Why are there paparazzi?” Vegeta asks, already feeling like the tie is far too tight.  
“It’s a big social event. There will be many rich and famous donors present, as well as high-profile scientists.”  
Wishing that she’d warned him, Vegeta steels himself before stepping out of the limo. Blinding lights flash in his eyes and he turns back to offer Bulma his hand. They enter arm in arm after braving the walk up the stairs to the front entrance.  
The gala is even more crowded than the conference, Vegeta is unhappy to find. More people means fewer escape routes. Maybe he _will_ have a drink to calm his nerves. He spots a waiter floating about the room with a tray of Champagne glasses and, as the waiter passes by, Vegeta grabs two off the tray. He hands one to Bulma, who takes it appreciatively. 

 

Bulma was not exaggerating when she said that the alcohol flowed freely. As the night progresses, Vegeta realizes that the men and women around him are getting louder and louder, and their boozed up laughter crowds at his senses. Aside from the Champagne, he hasn’t had anything else to drink.  
“And who’s this?” Vegeta hears someone slurring from behind him. He whirls around to see a tall, handsome man looking between Bulma and him expectantly.  
Bulma smiles at him - but Vegeta notes that it’s not genuine and doesn’t reach her eyes at all. She steps in closer to Vegeta and holds onto him tightly, swaying a bit. She introduces him to the stranger, who bows to Vegeta in a condescending way. His eyes flash with something unreadable, and deep inside of Vegeta, his old habits stir with violent intentions toward him.  
“I came over to invite you to my suite for a little after-party,” the man says to Bulma, a hint of an accent in his voice that Vegeta can’t quite place. He eyes Vegeta disdainfully, then continues, “But I see you already have a little plaything for the evening.”  
Years of repressed anger well up inside Vegeta and nearly spill out in a devastating swing of his fist, but he holds it firmly at his side in an attempt to restrain it. It wouldn’t do to get arrested for assault in a strange city, or to undo the years of self-control he’s been working so hard to maintain.  
Vegeta finds he doesn’t have to say anything at all when Bulma lets go of his arm and steps menacingly closer to the other man, whose name Vegeta doesn’t even know yet. Her face contorts with fury as she gets up on her tiptoes, pointing a finger in his face.  
“Vegeta is _not_ my plaything. He treats me with more respect than you ever have or ever will, and I don’t want to hear another word out of you about him, is that clear?” she says frostily. The anger coursing through her is evident in her low tone, and Vegeta makes a note to himself not to cross her if he can ever help it. She isn’t someone he wants to contend with on the verbal battlefield, even if she has had a few drinks in her.  
The man merely sneers back at her before tweaking her chin with his forefinger. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”  
He turns his disparaging gaze to Vegeta and smirks. “Have fun tonight. She _loves_ to play hard to get.” He then stalks off, leaving Bulma steaming mad and Vegeta feeling, for the first time in years, incredibly murderous.  
“Who the hell was he?” Vegeta growls, turning toward Bulma. He’s so angry he doesn’t even dwell on the implications of the man’s words - inviting Bulma to his private suite, calling Vegeta her plaything.  
She frowns after the man before finally turning to look Vegeta in the eye.  
“He propositions me every single year. I don’t know many people here past a working relationship, so I’ve taken to bringing a male friend along.”  
Vegeta nods. “Good. He seems like a creep.”  
“I don’t even know his real name,” Bulma sighs.  
“Thanks for defending my honor, though,” Vegeta says, earning him a semi-drunken grin. 

 

Vegeta warily watches Bulma for the rest of the evening. The creep doesn’t show up again - lucky for him, because Vegeta would have to take him outside and teach him a lesson if he did - but Bulma does have several more drinks. By the time the gala winds down, she’s leaning heavily on him.  
Vegeta manages to get Bulma back to the limo and then into hotel in one piece - minus her shoes, which he carries in his free hand. “Alright, up we go,” he says as the elevator doors close behind them.  
He wonders briefly why he’s in this situation before remembering that he technically signed up for this. Bulma _did_ warn him, so now he has to live with his decision.  
“Whoa,” Bulma says, gripping the railing on the wall and his arm equally as hard as the elevator begins its ascent. “This feels weeeird.”  
“You are very drunk. Everything feels weird,” Vegeta says. His patience is beginning to wear thin at her drunken antics. “You thought _sitting down_ felt weird.”  
“Well it _did,_ ” Bulma says in self-defense.  
The elevator stops jarringly at a floor that isn’t theirs and Vegeta rolls his eyes, just wanting to get upstairs so that he can go to sleep. He waits for the doors to open, but they don’t, even after he pushes the button.  
“Damn.”  
“What?” Bulma asks.  
“I think the elevator is stuck.”  
“What? Nooo!” Bulma says, frowning at the panel as if it had just insulted her ancestors. “Hit the ‘mergency button.”  
Vegeta does what she says, and it puts him through to 24-hour emergency line. Once he speaks with the dispatcher, who says a technician will be there in 20 minutes, he leans against the wall to begin the waiting game.  
“I wish people would respect me more,” Bulma says forlornly as she joins him in wall-leaning. “I could solve world hunger and there would still be assholes who just see me as a piece of meat.”  
She slides to the floor, not caring about her dress in the slightest.  
Well, then. Vegeta looks down at her, not exactly ready for a drunk confession, but about to receive one anyway. “Those kinds of people don’t respect anybody,” he says.  
“I _know,_ but sometimes, I wish I weren’t so beautiful. Or rich. If I were just a regular, average woman, then maybe people would take me a little more seriously.”  
Vegeta awkwardly pats her on the head in a consolation attempt.  
“But then I remember I got people like you,” Bulma continues, seemingly unaware of Vegeta’s actions. “‘N’ Goku, ‘n’ Chi-Chi. Even Piccolo. You all treat me like I’m just a regular ol’ human being instead of putting me up on some weird pedestal I didn’t ask to be on.”  
The slurring of her words makes it difficult for Vegeta to understand her, so he just hums in agreement.  
“Si’down,” Bulma says, patting the tile next to her. Vegeta acquiesces, taking care not to scuff up his pants too much.  
“Why’re you _so nice_ to me?” Bulma asks, turning to him with tears in her eyes.  
Oh, no. No, no, no. Vegeta is definitely _not_ ready to deal with a crying woman right now. Bulma doesn’t even give him a chance to respond, anyway.  
“You’re so patient. I know I talk a lot sometimes, and I know you don’t really care about conversation much, but you _got me roses_ just to say thank you. No one has ever done that for me that didn’t have some weird…” she pauses for several seconds, “...ulterior motive or something,” she says, waving her hand emphatically.  
“If you hadn’t noticed,” Vegeta says, “I didn’t really have any social graces. I still don’t, so I’m not really sure why you thought it was such a good idea to bring me along to this. I nearly punched that guy’s brains out with the way he was talking to you.” He grows angry again at the memory.  
Vegeta’s eyes widen as Bulma rests her head on his shoulder. “Now who’s defending whose honor?” she giggles, then hiccups. “Wow, I’m really, really sleepy.”  
“If you pass out on me before the technician arrives, I’m going to have to carry you to bed,” Vegeta tells her. “And I have a feeling you’re heavier than you look.”  
“Hey!” Bulma protests half-heartedly. Then she mumbles, “‘m not _that_ heavy.”  
Vegeta snorts. “Yeah, but if you’re passed out, then you’re just dead weight.”  
“You callin’ me fat?”  
“I’m telling you you’ll be difficult to lift while I’m wearing this tux. Try not to pass out.” 

 

The technician buzzes over the elevator intercom several minutes later to inform them that he’s arrived, the fix will be an easy one, and to just hold tight for a few minutes longer.  
True to his word, the elevator begins moving again not long after and finally stops at their destination.  
“Alright,” Vegeta says, hopping to his feet with relative ease. “Up you get.”  
Bulma merely groans and puts her hand on her forehead. “Don’t wanna.”  
Vegeta bends down, grabs her hand, and pulls. “Too bad. You can sit down when we get inside, but you can’t stay in the elevator all night.”  
Bulma reluctantly follows his orders and and leans on him for support as he helps her into the suite. Her arm is soft and warm draped over his neck. Vegeta places her shoes beside the door and helps her sit down on the couch. “Let me get you a glass of water,” he says. “Or you’re going to have a terrible hangover in the morning.”  
Bulma nods and then sways a bit, her equilibrium all out of whack.  
Vegeta turns on the television when he returns with water for both of them, as well as a banana and a blanket for Bulma.  
“Eat this,” he says, handing the fruit to her. “It’ll help with the hangover, too.”  
There’s some show from the 60s on, but Vegeta ignores it in favor of checking his email on his phone. Before long, Bulma scoots closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder again. He raises an eyebrow but lets her be since it doesn’t bother him any.  
After a long moment, though, Bulma cocks her head up to him. “Vegeta?” she asks.  
“Yes?”  
“I wanna go to bed.”  
“Ok.”  
She stumbles over to the bathroom to brush her teeth, for which Vegeta is thankful because the vodka on her breath was beginning to make him dizzy. When she’s finished, and after Vegeta patiently wipes a smear of toothpaste off her cheek (really, he’s a saint, he deserves an award for this), she finally gets to her bedroom. One hand on her hip and the other on the doorframe to steady herself, she turns back and looks at him over her shoulder.  
“I need your help unzipping this,” she says, indicating her dress.  
“I don’t think-” Vegeta says, then sighs. “Fine, but you can look after the rest yourself.” He unhooks the little metal piece holding the top of the dress together and slides the zipper down, his fingertips brushing softly against the warm, flawless skin as the dress opens to reveal the black band of her strapless bra. Once the zipper reaches the dip of her back, he stops, sure she can finish unzipping it on her own. He steps back and turns around. It’s hard to take his eyes off of her.  
“There. I’ll see you in the morning.”  
As he walks away, he hears the _whump_ of fabric hitting the floor and Bulma muttering to herself.  
“Vegeta?” she says after a few beats.  
“Yes?” he replies without turning around. There’s no way she’s had time to put something on, so she’s probably standing there in her underthings. He decides that, on the likely possibility that Bulma doesn’t remember this in the morning, he won’t bring it up. Ever.  
He hears her footsteps walking toward him.

 

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really, really, really love to hear your thoughts on this one.


	16. This Cold Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another co-writing credit to [Ann_Ominous](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Ominous) for this one. Big thank you for watching me write this because this is the chapter I've been excited to write ever since I came up with the idea for it. 
> 
> Thank you to Artephile for giving this story even more exposure - I really appreciate that! 
> 
> And finally, thank you to all of my regular commenters and readers who've been with me with each and every update. You guys are the best and I really love talking to you all.
> 
> You'll notice that this story is now 16/21 chapters. That's right. We're in the home stretch, everybody. I'm really excited to reach the climax of this story, and that's coming very _very_ soon.

Vegeta freezes. 

“Vegeta?” Bulma asks again. Then, “I didn’t mean like… like _that_. I just get so anxious when I’m here.”  
“You’re hardly wearing anything, woman,” he hisses, turning his head down and slightly back so his voice reaches her. “At least have some decency.”  
He hears shuffling behind him and, after a few moments, feels her hand on his shoulder. He turns to see that she has donned a robe. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea,” Vegeta says.  
“Why?” Bulma says, her voice dropping an octave and looking up at him from hooded eyes. She wiggles her eyebrows as best she can in her drunken state. “Afraid you’ll jump me?” She runs a teasing finger along his shoulder.  
“ _No,_ ” he says emphatically, taking her by the wrist and removing her hand. “Because I’m afraid that you’ll do something you’ll regret. You don’t have your wits about you right now, and I think it’s best if you go to bed and sleep it off. Alone.”  
Just then, the intercom buzzes. “Go to bed,” Vegeta calls back to her as he walks over to the elevator door to answer it. He doesn’t care that Bulma pouts at him, crossing her arms like a petulant child.  
When he answers, he discovers that it’s room service with the sangria that Bulma had ordered for them that morning. He accepts it and puts it away in the fridge and turns to see Bulma still standing in the doorway.  
“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you,” Vegeta sighs. “Why are you so anxious?” he asks, hoping that, if he gets to the root of the problem, he’ll be able to persuade her away from this. Vegeta can just see his younger self scoffing at him now. If an attractive, intoxicated woman had asked him back then to spend the night with her, he’d have jumped on that chance in a heartbeat.  
Hell, if that happened today, he might be tempted - minus the intoxicated part. If she were some nameless, faceless woman he’d just met… Vegeta shakes his head, pushing the thought away. He knows Bulma far too well now, and she deserves better than him.  
“I just am,” Bulma says vaguely. “I don’t really know why.”  
“Listen,” Vegeta says. “I’m right here. There’s nothing to be afraid of. But I need to sleep, and so do you. Go to bed.” He doesn’t give her the chance to respond and stalks off to his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

After noticing his door doesn’t have a lock, he wears sweatpants for pajamas tonight to be on the safe side. His suspicions are confirmed when, not half an hour later, he hears a gentle knock on his door.  
“Go to bed, Bulma,” he grumbles in her direction.  
“Please open the door,” Bulma says quietly. “I just wanna talk.”  
Vegeta rolls his eyes but gets up anyway, opening the door a crack - just enough for her to see his serious expression. “I thought you were tired.”  
“I am,” Bulma says hesitantly. “But…”  
Vegeta opens the door fully and crosses his arms. “But what?”  
“I don’t… want to be alone. I know there’s nothing to be afraid of, like you said, but- I just really want to be around you right now.”  
Vegeta pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know, Bulma. But you're drunk.”  
She pouts at him. “But I'm sad,” she says. This is a side of Bulma that Vegeta never expected to see.  
_How do I even respond to that?_ Vegeta wonders. “Bulma…” He says in a warning tone.  
“I just feel... ” She shivers and hugs herself as she looks away. “You make me feel safe.”  
_Wait, what?_ Vegeta thinks, brain short circuiting as it attempts to process her words. “I do?” he asks intelligently.  
Bulma nods and shrugs, her mind steadily sobering at the unplanned admission.  
“Um,” Vegeta says and looks at his feet. “If you want me to sit next to you until you fall asleep, I guess I could-”  
He doesn't finish his sentence because she nods enthusiastically and takes a step towards him. “Would you?” 

And this is how Vegeta finds himself on a bed beside Bulma as she dozes off. Her breathing steadies and soft snores fill the air to indicate that she’s finally asleep, and Vegeta’s chest tightens at the sight of her; she’s so delicate, so defenseless. He has the feeling she doesn’t have even an inkling of the worst the world has to offer.  
Vegeta glances away from his phone screen to watch her after she’s been snoring for a while, looking for any indication she’ll wake up again. She’s sound asleep, though, so he slowly slides to the edge of the bed to return to his own room.  
As he lies awake, the word ‘safe’ echoes in his mind. He makes her feel _safe_. 

The next morning, the smell of coffee brings Bulma out of the room, yawning. “What time is it?” she asks, squinting at the harsh light of the morning sun and absentmindedly rubbing her temple.  
“Quarter to nine,” Vegeta says, pouring her a glass of water and giving her an aspirin from the cabinet in the kitchen. “Here. You look like you could use this.”  
Bulma swallows the pill and half the glass of water. “I do, thanks.” She pours herself a mug of coffee, too, and sits at a bar stool situated at the raised counter.  
“What time d’ya wanna leave?” she asks. “Do you have anywhere you need to be later?” She glances pointedly at his fully clothed form, eyebrow raising.  
Vegeta shakes his head. “We can leave whenever you’re ready. I would like to go downstairs and get some breakfast, though.”  
“Well, _you_ look like you’re all ready to go. I’ll get dressed and meet you there,” Bulma says. “As soon as my head stops pounding.”  
Vegeta smirks. “I can wait.” 

\---

“And the best thing is, using the chamber in short bursts is more beneficial than training with weights on because it affects all your muscles instead of just a target group,” Bulma explains, waving a bite of sausage around with her fork.  
Vegeta eyes it warily, waiting for it to fling off and hit him - or someone else - in the face. “Wouldn't there be negative side effects on some internal organs? What sort of stress would it put on the heart?”  
“Well, we’ll need to do some more extensive tests to see if there are any long term effects. Right now, we are using volunteers under the watchful care of physicians to make sure everything goes smoothly. Nothing horrible has happened yet.”  
“And if it turns out there _are_ dangers?” Vegeta asks. “You’ve poured millions into it. Then what?”  
Bulma smiles. “Ethics over breakfast. I like your style. Well, we’d continue researching ways to counteract the effects, of course. Barring that, we’ll find other uses for it. This is just one of Capsule Corp’s many projects. We have had some failures before with no detrimental losses.”  
“So, do you think I could test it out sometime?” Vegeta asks casually, trying not to betray his excitement at the prospect of training even harder than he currently does.  
Bulma catches on and quirks an eyebrow. “You'll have to sign a waiver, but sure,” she laughs. 

Once they've eaten their fill, returned to the room, and packed their things, Vegeta and Bulma wait in the lobby for the driver to bring the limo around. The conversation on the way home is much livelier than the drive up due to the participants being much more awake. To Vegeta, it feels like almost no time at all has passed by the time they reach Capsule Corp. He wonders what that means. 

\---

The next day, Vegeta wakes up early to go for his morning run. The air is crisp and clean, and he pushes himself harder than he has in a long time. His lungs burn at the exertion but he presses forward with renewed vigor. After returning home and enjoying a blistering hot shower, he drives to the cafe with a smile on his face.  
It feels good to be alive.  
If Goku notices Vegeta’s cheerful demeanor, he says nothing. Even Yamcha’s laziness isn’t enough to put a damper on Vegeta’s good mood. It is, however, enough to remind him of the meeting he set up with Piccolo and Goku for the next morning. 

Vegeta goes with Goku to the pub later that night to join everyone else. Krillin, who’s sitting next to Bulma, suddenly decides he’ll sit next to Piccolo instead. Vegeta lifts an eyebrow but takes the now-empty seat, clearly meant for him, and doesn’t complain or comment. 

Afterward, someone suggests they all go for a walk downtown. Tien declines due to working earlier than usual tomorrow, but everyone else happily agrees. Vegeta takes up the rear of the group. Watching everyone interact with one another makes him happy for the sense of belonging he feels among them. They walk in twos and threes along the sidewalk, but Vegeta walks alone - that is, until Bulma finds her way to him to keep him company.  
“I can’t believe that fall is just beginning and I can already see my breath,” she says, punctuating her statement with a puff of foggy air. Then she shivers, and Vegeta notices that she is woefully underdressed.  
“You look cold,” he says.  
“What gave you _that_ impression?” Bulma responds cheekily, rubbing her shoulders. “I forgot my scarf in the car.”  
Vegeta rolls his eyes. “And that sweater barely qualifies as a shirt. Poor planning, if you ask me,” he says, unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off. “Here. Don’t want the world’s leading mechanical engineer dying of pneumonia.”  
Bulma attempts to refuse the offer, so Vegeta wraps his jacket over her shoulders. “But now you’ll be cold!” Bulma protests.  
“I’ll be fine. You have no meat on your bones,” Vegeta says. “So wear it.”  
Bulma doesn’t argue further, but she does bat at him with the ends of the sleeves that hang over her hands.  
Vegeta goes home without his jacket that night. 

\--- 

A week after the conference, Bulma shows up at the cafe at closing. “Come on,” she says to Vegeta. “Let’s go for a walk.”  
“I swear if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to woo me,” Vegeta mutters as Bulma hands him a protein shake from the shop down the road.  
“Why are you here, again?” Vegeta asks.  
“I needed to get out of the lab. I just pulled a fourteen hour day in there and my brain is _fried_. So, walk.”  
Vegeta takes a sip of the shake. It’s chocolate, and he's surprised not to find some other weird flavor in there, too.  
“So, when do I get to try out that gravity chamber?” Vegeta asks. “Ever since the conference, all my workouts seem sadly lacking in their potential.”  
Bulma smiles cryptically. “I don't want to send you in there before I'm certain it's safe. Give me another month or two with it.”  
“I am not a patient man,” Vegeta huffs, but there's no weight behind it. “But I guess it's a good thing that I don't accidentally get flung into the stratosphere or suffer a heart attack or something.” 

The direction of their walk takes them toward the part of town that Vegeta would really rather not go to. Not right now. He hasn't heard a word from Radditz in weeks now, and he doesn't know what the underworld landscape looks like right now. He subtly tries to herd Bulma in another direction, but she’s oblivious to his efforts and keeps plodding along. Finally, Vegeta speaks up.  
“Let’s go this way,” he says, grabbing her arm and pulling her down a side street that will lead to a better-lit and less sketchy part of town. It doesn’t help that there’s a new moon and the night is a lot darker than usual.  
“Vegeta?” Bulma says. “Is there something wrong?”  
“Nah,” Vegeta says, still determinedly marching _away_ from there. They reach the part of the neighborhood that skirts the ‘neutral zone,’ as it used to be referred to back in the day. Once they reach it, they’ll be out of the woods. 

As they approach the main road, a small convoy of black SUVs roar by. Vegeta watches as they screech to a halt a mere three blocks away. 

“FBI?” Bulma speculates, subconsciously pulling toward the scene.  
Vegeta stands frozen on the spot as men wearing bandanas over their faces pour out of the vehicles. Is that…? He squints. The yellow light from the street lamps make it difficult to see; but he swears he sees the colors, the mark of… No, it can't be. Not here, not tonight. Not with her. 

Gunshots ring out into the chilled night air. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he pushes Bulma into an alleyway and shields her with his body. Not here. Not tonight. Not with her. Not with her, please-  
Someone screams and it sounds _really_ close but all Vegeta can think to do is hold Bulma to the ground, gritting his teeth and expecting the worse. More gunfire. More yelling.  
Then, silence. A beat passes, then two. All Vegeta can hear is the blood pounding through his ears and Bulma’s heavy breathing beneath him. Sirens wail in the distance and he gets shakily to his feet. Peeking out from the alley, his eyes widen as he takes in the carnage on the street mere hundreds of yards away. The black SUVs rumble to life and take off down the street in the direction from which they came. Though the windows are tinted, Vegeta knows: It's them. There’s nobody else this could be. 

“Come,” he commands Bulma, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to her feet, then scooping her up and cradling her against his chest. Vegeta runs in the direction of the cafe. His vision tunnels as he singlemindedly rushes toward his goal: namely, to be anywhere but here. He sets her down at some point, minutes or hours after he starts running-

They reach the cafe’s back parking lot. The adrenalin starts to wear off and Vegeta turns to Bulma.  
She stares at him, eyes wide.  
“Oh my _God_.”  
Sensing that they are finally safe, Vegeta sinks to the ground with his back against the building. He draws his knees up to his chest. His heart pounds frantically and it feels like it'll burst out of him at any moment. Those colors… They’re the ones he had tattooed on his back the day he turned sixteen. The ones that represent everything he's tried to separate himself from. The ones he spent countless painful procedures trying to remove from his skin, his _soul_.  
And the men who wore those colors? They were _three blocks away_.  
“Vegeta?” Bulma asks, squatting next to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinches away and she removes her hand, opting to sit on the cold pavement next to him.  
“Frieza…” Vegeta whispers.  
Bulma cocks her head to one side.  
“Those were Frieza’s men. I know their colors.” Panic wells within Vegeta. He should have known his past would find him eventually.  
“Isn't Frieza dead?” Bulma asks.  
Vegeta’s head shoots up and he glares at her. “Of course he is. But dammit, woman, you don't even realize the danger you were in!”  
“I don't think they were there for us,” she says.  
Vegeta puts his forehead on his knees. “They don't- I can't-” he takes a shaky breath, _Bulma_...”  
“Yes?” She says softly, sensing the seriousness of what he’s about to tell her. His voice shakes and she can tell he’s not in a good place right now. 

“They don't care about collateral damage. I was just a _kid_ , for God’s sake! I didn't have anywhere to go. They didn't care that I didn't know how to deal with- with-” His eyes unfocus and he stares a thousand yards ahead.  
“ _I thought I shot my family!_ ” he blurts out. “He groomed me to be one of his own and then he made me believe that I shot my family. I carried that belief with me for seven years before I found out the truth. And when I did, I swore on my father’s grave that I'd end Frieza. But I had to get away. I had to- God, I ended the lives of _so many people._ ” He begins to hyperventilate before finding the strength to continue, and Bulma can do nothing but listen as the truth about his past is finally laid bare before her. 

“I remember every single one. I can remember the fear in their eyes at finding themselves at the wrong end of the barrel. The executions were the worst- have you ever heard a person begging for their life? Crying for their family? I thought - I thought they didn't deserve to live. They wronged Frieza, so their lives were worthless to him and by extension, me. God-”  
Silent sobs rack his body for several long moments before he regains control of his voice. “I was his soulless killing machine. I _liked_ it. I stopped anyone from getting close to me in case I had to, in case Frieza found out and made me- I didn't want to-”  
He looks up to see Bulma’s eyes brimming with tears. _Shit. She thinks I’m a monster._  
Vegeta can't stand the sight of her realization who he used to be. Who he _is_. “I can't do this,” he shakes his head and stands, knees weak. “I can’t.” With one hand against the brick for support, he fumbles with his keys. Bulma chases after him, trying to reach out to him but hesitating before her hand makes contact with his arm.  
“Vegeta, wait!”  
Vegeta leaves her behind and unlocks the car, closing the car door and locking it as soon as he’s inside. Bulma, looking panicked herself, pounds on the window and yells his name.  
“Vegeta!”  
He turns sharply away from her as he starts the car and slams it into reverse. He makes sure that Bulma is clear of the vehicle and screeches the tires as he maneuvers out of the parking lot, disappearing down the road in a matter of seconds and leaving a bewildered Bulma to stand gaping after him.  
“Vegeta…” she says quietly to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...
> 
> I know this isn't what you were expecting.
> 
> But I still need to hear what you think about it.


	17. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written for half a week, but my lovely beta [Ann_Ominous](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Ominous) said I had to wait to post it for 'suspense' or something. ;)  
> I want to thank my readers and commenters. It brings me great joy to see you all in my inbox. I love interacting with you and you give me the motivation to keep going even when I don't want to write some days. You're the best <3
> 
> Anyway, this was a different kind of chapter for me to write, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
>  **Warnings for this chapter:** irresponsible alcohol consumption  & mild violence

Bulma shakes her head and her brain kicks into high gear. Fourteen hour lab day be damned, she rushes to her car to follow Vegeta. She curses the fact that she hits _every single red light_ on the way home and briefly considers just running straight through them.  
But, law-abiding citizen that she is, she sits at each of them and impatiently taps her fingers against the steering wheel, tires screeching the moment the light turns green.

First things first, she’ll check the cabin. He might not let her in, but it would comfort her to know where he is, at least.  
There’s a blur of red and blue lights as a long line of police cars passes her, rushing in the direction of the shooting. _Oh my God,_ she thinks. _I just witnessed a gang shootout._ She should probably stay and make a statement or… or _something_ , but she can’t force herself to focus on anything other than her Vegeta, in danger. Surely someone else saw what happened.  
When she finally reaches the compound, she wastes no time navigating the private roads until she reaches Vegeta’s driveway. And of course, he’s not there.

Bulma pulls out her phone and dials Goku while she makes her way back home.  
“Something happened with Vegeta,” she says, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. “I need you to come over as soon as you can.”  
Goku wastes no time and gets there in half an hour later with Chi-Chi. The two sit next to Bulma on the front steps of her house. “Do you know where he could have gone?” Goku asks.  
Bulma shakes her head. “I don’t know. I have no idea where he could be. He doesn’t really like talking about himself so I don’t know much about his past. Except… except what he told me.”  
Chi-Chi rubs Bulma’s back soothingly.  
“I’m sorry, hon. He’ll be okay. He probably just needed some time to himself to process everything.”  
Bulma nods and chews at a fingernail, deep in thought. “It was so sudden. One moment he was telling me everything, and then he looked up at me and saw me crying and then he just…” she waves her hand vaguely.  
Goku frowns. “I’ll cover his shift for him tomorrow. If he shows up, I’ll make him go home and take a few days for himself. He works too hard, anyway.”  
Chi-Chi nods in agreement. “I can even come in and help on till or wherever if you need me,” she offers.  
Goku gives a half-hearted smile and puts his arm around her. “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” he says.

\---

Two days later; still no Vegeta. _This is not okay,_ Bulma thinks. She feels like she hasn’t slept in days - and she probably hasn’t. Objectively she knows that Vegeta is an adult. He can look after himself. He can do what he wants.  
But he’s also her friend, dammit, and he needs help. So she pulls all the strings she can to set up a network of people from coast to coast in hopes that somebody, somewhere, has seen Vegeta.  
Another day passes, then two, then three - Bulma starts to lose hope that he’ll return. If there’s one thing she has deduced about him, it’s that he’s good at running away. He left his old life with Frieza, and now he’s left this life, too. His cafe. His friends. _Her_. And she’s not sure if he’ll ever come back.

Krillin, Piccolo, and Goku stop by that evening. “Any word?” Krillin asks quietly. He puts an arm around Bulma’s shoulders and gives a friendly squeeze in an attempt to comfort her. She shakes her head and leans into him with a sigh.  
“Maybe I should just let him go,” Bulma says. “It’s not like he has to answer to me. He probably doesn’t even care about us.”  
“Nonsense,” Piccolo says. “I’ve worked with him enough to get a read on him, and believe me, he cares. But he probably decided that he cared too much and it freaked him out. Figures.” Piccolo crosses his arms and frowns. “He doesn’t know how to handle it.”

Bulma sighs, about to lament even further, when her cell rings. She pulls it out of her pocket and nearly drops it in shock.  
“Who is it?” Goku asks curiously.  
“It’s Roshi,” Bulma whispers, hope buoying her. Roshi is one of her contacts down the coast.  
“Hello?” she answers the phone, putting it on speaker for all to hear.  
“Bulma Briefs, is that you?” Roshi says on the other end.  
“Yeah, yeah. It’s me,” Bulma says. “Have you seen Vegeta?”  
“Now, my eyesight’s not so good anymore,” Roshi says, “But I think I mighta seen someone matching his description earlier today when I was buyin’ groceries. He drove a fancy Mercedes just like you said in your description. And his hair was ridiculously spiky, just like the photo you sent. So I followed him a little and he went to this little beach shack down the road. Looks like he’s been stayin’ there a few days.”  
Bulma deflates with utter relief. “Oh, thank God,” she breathes out. “Thank you so much, Roshi. I owe you.”  
“Well, now, if you wouldn’t mind-” he begins, but Bulma presses the _end call_ button and grins at the group. “I think we found him.”  
“So, roadtrip?” Goku asks with his head tilted and a half-grin lighting up his face.  
“You’d want to come with me?” Bulma asks. Of course he would.  
“I’ll go, too,” Piccolo says.  
“Um, what about the shop?” Bulma asks, turning to Krillin, who shrugs.  
“Tien and I and the rest of us can hold down the fort while you’re gone. We’ve been training for a couple of weeks for this, anyway,” he says. “We can shorten our operating hours until you all make it back if we really need to.”  
Goku and Piccolo nod. “I don’t see a problem with that,” Goku says. “So I hereby grant you official acting manager duties. Let’s swing by my place on the way home so I can get you my keys.”  
“Should we leave tomorrow morning?” Bulma asks. “I’d like to go now, but…” _It’s been a long day and I am **tired**_.  
“Best if we do,” Piccolo agrees.  
“Let’s meet here at seven, then,” Bulma says resolutely.

\---

Their old safe house looks like it has been untouched since the last time Vegeta was here, but it’s still got power. Frieza’s accountants must have forgotten it, or it’s off the books and they pay a semi monthly power bill for a place they don’t even use.  
Vegeta wonders if Raditz even made it down the coast as far as this since then, or if he mostly stuck to the city. There’s still radio silence from his old brother in arms, and he wonders if it was even worth it to stop by the cabin and grab his burner before skipping town.

The last time Raditz, Nappa and he were here was… Damn, it must be pushing eleven years ago. They were the dream team. Frieza gave them free reign over their exploits. Oh, that illusion of power felt incredible while it lasted. And the best part was, even though he was the youngest of the three, Frieza appointed him leader. That was how he earned the nickname _The Prince_.  
They called themselves the Saiyans and they were the golden children of Frieza’s Army.

Vegeta runs to a local grocery store to stock up for the next few days. This being a tiny fishing town, his Mercedes sticks out like a sore thumb, so he walks the short distance to and from. As he stocks the refrigerator with all the essentials - eggs, beer, and whiskey - he glances out the window. It’s a clear day and he can see Turtle Island in the distance. He used to wonder if the rumors were true and if an old hermit lived over there. Now he couldn’t care less and he pours himself his first glass of whiskey for the night.

He runs out of whiskey first - two bottles apparently weren’t enough - so he makes another trip to the store two days later. There’s an old man talking to the cashier and trying to get her phone number when Vegeta walks in.  
He pays him no mind and walks straight to the liquor section - maybe he’ll get three bottles this time. Maybe it’ll help him forget.  
The cashier recognizes him from earlier in the week and tries to make small talk. She’s cute, with sparkling brown eyes and dirty blonde hair, but Vegeta just wants to go home. He gives curt, one word answers and, as soon as the transaction is finished, stalks out the door. The old man, who wears a pair of red sunglasses despite the gloomy weather that seems to have settled over the coast in the past two days, leaves at the same time.

Vegeta downs a glass the moment he wakes up the next day. It stopped burning ages ago, and now he only feels numbness as it slides down his throat. He never thought that hitting rock bottom would feel so delightfully painless.  
And it doesn’t matter how much he drinks because he doesn’t have anyone to divulge any information to. He absolutely can’t shut up when he’s intoxicated, a fact which for years had him swear off drinking of any kind. After a while, he only let himself have one or two drinks at most. That way, his uncharacteristic chattiness wouldn’t come out and let him down.  
Well. It had anyway, and he didn’t even have a single drink in him at the time. So much for that brilliant plan.  
And now Bulma knows everything about him, and has probably told everyone else in his new group of friends, too.  
A million different plans run through his brain, though they trudge along much more slowly with each drink he consumes. _Sell the cafe, run far away,_ his brain supplies helpfully. He banishes the thought. Ambivalence tears him apart. He wants to build something he can be proud of, but he never wants to see their disappointed faces ever again. He curses himself for caring too much.

\---

“Could you slow down a little?” Piccolo asks, holding onto the handle in the backseat with a white knuckle grip. “I know you want to make sure that Vegeta is safe, but could you at least make sure _we_ arrive safe?”  
“Oh, come off it, Piccolo,” Bulma says, features determined as she passes yet another vehicle on highway 101 while going breakneck speed. “I’m an expert driver.”  
“And Piccolo’s an expert backseat driver,” Goku points out, earning him a chuckle from Bulma.  
“Oh, be quiet,” Piccolo says, letting go of the handle to cross his arms grumpily.  
“We’re still six hours away,” Bulma informs them. “So unless you want to stretch that to eight or even ten, I’d suggest you let me drive as fast as I am.”

There are a few blissful moments of silence until Piccolo says, “Pitstop first.”

They roll up to the next gas station they see, Piccolo sprinting inside while Bulma fuels up. Goku follows Piccolo in to buy roadtrip snacks, leaving Bulma alone outside. Her cell chirps and there’s a message from Roshi - Vegeta is still at the shack. Perfect. Doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere soon, either, judging by the supply he’s got on him.  
Bulma pulls the car into a parking stall and tilts the driver’s seat back to close her eyes. Piccolo and Goku don’t take long, however, so it’s merely a brief respite. Back on the road they go, and Bulma wishes not for the first time that day that she could teleport them there instantly.

\---

_”Ey, Vegeta,” Nappa says. “Get your sorry ass out of bed. We got him.”_

_Vegeta groans and pulls the covers over his head. They’re soon ripped away, and Vegeta glares at Nappa as he holds the comforter away from him. “I haven’t slept in like three days,” Vegeta grumbles. “I don’t care if Frieza himself wants to see me. I’m sleeping.”_  
_“Have it your way, kid,” Nappa says._  
_Raditz grins from his spot at the table where he’s sharpening his knives._  
_“Yeah, you don’t come with us and the spoils are alllll ours.”_  
_Vegeta rolls his eyes. “Like hell,” he says, sitting up with a groan. He slides on a pair of pants and zips up a hoodie over his bare chest._  
_“It’s colder than Frieza’s asscrack out there, you might want to bundle up a little,” Raditz chuckles._  
_Vegeta doesn’t._  
_He lets Raditz drive while he and Nappa go over the plan. They’ve got their man, and now they just need to get the information they need from him. Raditz will threaten to break his fingers. Nappa will **actually** break his fingers if he needs to. And Vegeta will do what he does best: he will sit in the corner, staring the man down and chilling him to the bone with his icy black glare._

_They’d never accounted for this guy’s friends._

_Or the things he’d know._

\---

“I think we should stop for dinner,” Goku says, holding his stomach. “I’m starving.”  
“You’re always starving,” Bulma points out, but agrees. “Piccolo, you’re on restaurant duty. Find us the nearest place that has higher than three stars. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

Bulma is glad for the break. She eats in silence and lets Goku and Piccolo do all the talking for once. Quarrelling emotions swirl around in her head. There’s excitement at seeing Vegeta again. She acutely feels his absence and it’s not a new sensation by any means, but the fact that she feels it for _him_ must count for something. She’s angry that he hasn’t bothered to call or text or give her any sort of indication that he’s alive. She thought they’d reached a turning point during the conference weekend. She thought things might be different for them now.  
She thought that maybe that had something.

\---

_Geez, Vegeta, you’re bleeding **everywhere.** Go stitch yourself up. Nappa says. He’s supporting Vegeta by slinging one arm around his shoulder and pulling him inside the safehouse._  
_Raditz is not far behind and he deadbolts the door and shutters the blinds. “I’m gonna kill that bastard,” he growls._  
_Nappa deposits Vegeta on the kitchen floor where the mess will at least be easy to clean up. He pulls out their medical kit and hands it to Vegeta before lighting up a cigarette. “This is gonna put you out of commission for a while.”_  
_“No, it fucking won’t,” Vegeta growls. He grabs the scissors and thread from the bag and orders Nappa to get him a shot of brandy. Sometimes, he likes doing things the old-fashioned way._

_Once he’s finished stitching up the wounds in his side, he showers to rinse the rest of the blood off of him. The wounds sting like a bitch, but he grits his teeth and works through the pain. There will be no weakness, here._

_“I’m gonna kill Frieza,” Vegeta tells Nappa the next night._  
_Nappa frowns. “Why you sayin’ things like that?”_  
_“You heard what that asshole said,” Vegeta hisses, referring to their botched interrogation attempt._  
_“Oh, you still angry about that?” Nappa chuckles. “So you didn’t kill your family. Big whoop. I thought that would’ve been **good** news.”_  
_“You imbecile!” Vegeta shouts at him, grabbing Nappa by the collar and pulling him down. “I killed five **nobodies** with hoods over their faces. **Frieza** killed my family himself. And you know he never gets his hands dirty.”_  
_“Okay, so?” Nappa says, stupidly not seeing the point._  
_“So,” Vegeta continues, really getting on a roll now, “He’s a manipulator and a liar. And I’m gonna blow his brains out.” He thumbs the safety on his gun, the plan formulating in his mind. “And you’re gonna be there with me to see him hit the ground.”_  
_“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Nappa says, rolling his eyes. “And you’re not thinking straight. Give it some time. Do you really want to go up against the Cold family, a little one-man war? All by yourself? You’ll be dead in a second.”_

\---

“I’m pretty sure you just missed your exit,” Piccolo mutters. “If you’d just slow down-”  
“Oh, just let me drive,” Bulma grouses. Goku, ignoring shotgun law, fell asleep as soon as they hit the highway again, and Piccolo has never been Bulma’s choice for one-on-one company. He’s far too serious for her liking.  
“Unless you’d like to drive in the completely wrong direction, I’d suggest moving over and taking the next one.”  
“Since when are you the all-knowing god of directions?” Bulma asks petulantly.  
Piccolo waves his phone at her. She glances at it to see a map displaying directions to their destination.  
“Since I have the GPS, and it’s telling you that we missed the exit. Listen to the GPS, Bulma. It knows things.”  
“Fine,” Bulma mutters under her breath and signals to move back into the slow, boring lane.

\---

_“Where’s Raditz?” Vegeta asks casually. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”_  
_“No clue,” Nappa says. “But I’m gonna order us a pizza. Think there’s a decent joint in this town?”_  
_Vegeta glares at Nappa’s back and the safety on his gun clicks to the off position. “It’ll probably be disgustingly greasy, but go for it. You’re buying.”_  
_“Oh, are the Prince’s coffers not overflowing with generosity today?” Nappa asks sarcastically, flipping through the local phonebook - which is laughably tiny - for a pizzeria._

_“So you’re not going to mention my little plan to Frieza, right?” Vegeta says. They’re on their way to pick up the pizza, because of course the only place in town doesn’t deliver._  
_Nappa is silent for a moment too long. “I’m just saying, it’s a terrible idea.”_  
_“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Vegeta mutters. But they can continue this conversation another time._

_They return to the city and Vegeta gets to work. He’s one of Frieza’s best, so he knows that he’ll listen to what Vegeta has to say. He’s learned a trick or two from the master manipulator himself, and if he plays his hand right, Frieza won’t know what hit him._

_He sets up a meeting with the boss man himself. Tells him he wants to move on to bigger and better things, and he’s got his sights on a city just a few hours east. Vegeta’s intel is solid; there’s a blood feud between the local gangs, but neither of them have what it takes to stand up to Frieza’s Army. They can overtake it in a matter of weeks._

_So Frieza agrees. Vegeta knows that he’s power mad and that the prospect of expanding his empire is irresistible. On the eve that he intends to put his plan into action, Vegeta can’t keep still._  
_Nappa eyes him warily. “Raditz says you’ve got a meeting with Frieza tonight. Something you wanna share?”_  
_“Just a plan to expand his holdings. I know he’s been itching for a good hostile takeover lately,” Vegeta smirks. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nappa’s hand inching toward his phone._  
_“Oh yeah? I see you’ve gotten over your little bitch fit,” Nappa laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He stares Vegeta down._  
_Vegeta turns to look him in the eye, and in an instant, he knows that Nappa knows his real plan. For a split second, he glances at Nappa’s hand - now surreptitiously dialling one of Frieza’s men. Nappa catches the glance, and their eyes lock again as the tension in the air grows so thick that Vegeta could cut it with a machete._

\---

“I think we’re almost there!” Bulma cheers when she sees the ocean again. It’s been a long day of grey pavement and an unbroken line of trees. Goku wakes up from his blissful nap with a start.  
“Nice of you to join us,” Bulma adds, side-eyeing him.  
Goku rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry.”  
In the back seat, Piccolo keeps silent as he reads on his phone. The sky is just beginning to darken, and Bulma couldn’t be happier that the end of their journey is in sight.

 

They finally reach their last exit, and Bulma slows as she hits the residential roads. “Wow,” she muses, mostly to herself. “This is one tiny little… town? Village? No wonder Vegeta thought he could hide here.”  
“That sounds ominous,” Piccolo says.

\---

_”Nappa,” Vegeta says, warning in his tone. “You have to let me do this.”  
Nappa looks away as he finishes dialling. “I’m afraid I can’t, Vegeta. There’s too much at stake, here. You don’t realize what you’re getting into. You **can’t** -” _

_Vegeta always thought that when he killed Nappa, it’d be on Frieza’s orders. He tried not to get too close, but Nappa was his mentor. Inevitably there would be a bond formed. There’s a look akin to regret in Vegeta’s eyes as he raises the magnum and points it at Nappa’s head._  
_“I don’t think you understand,” he whispers. “I have to.”  
He pulls the trigger. _

\---

“There it is!” Goku says, sitting up straight and pointing at a small structure in the distance. It really is no more than a beach shack, Bulma notes. Roshi was right. Vegeta’s Mercedes sits parked behind it. There are no lights on inside, however, and dread stabs Bulma through the gut as she considers the implications of that.

\---

Vegeta should have been shot dead a decade ago. He doesn’t dwell on that fact as he finishes the last of the whiskey in his supply and glares at it angrily. _Traitor,_ he thinks at the empty bottle.  
If his life was spared back then for Vegeta to die like this today, then so be it. He hears car tires crunching over gravel and sees headlights sweep through the shack, but he doesn’t have the presence of mind to understand what it means.

Vegeta’s vision blurs and turns to black as, in the distance, he hears the sound of the front door opening and footsteps pounding across the wooden floor toward him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy.


	18. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma, Goku, and Piccolo find Vegeta, and what a state he is in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ann_Ominous for the quick beta for this one. I know it's long and ridiculous but I really wanted to post it tonight, and you really came through on that. <3
> 
> And a big thank you to my readers, old and new.  
> This chapter, and one scene in particular, is dedicated to all of you for sticking with me for so long.

_Somebody shakes Vegeta’s shoulder, calling for him to wake up. He groans and turns away from them, arm swinging up to block his eyes from the blinding light. Who’s shining a flashlight in his face, anyway?  
“Vegeta…!” he hears. Whoever it is, they’re really insistent. Why can’t they just let him sleep?_

“Vegeta!” Bulma calls again, shaking him and smacking his face to bring him to his senses. “Piccolo, get me a glass of water,” she commands. When he hands it to her, she splashes it in Vegeta’s face to try another tactic to startle him awake. Idiot.  
The smell of whiskey and beer permeates the air and several empty bottles lay scattered on the ground around Vegeta. There are far more than is healthy for a single person to consume in the amount of time that he clearly did.  
“Should I call an ambulance or something?” Goku asks, hovering behind Bulma and wringing his hands nervously.  
Bulma shakes her head. “It’ll be faster just to take him to a doctor” she says. “But I don’t think he needs one just yet.” Her heart leaps as Vegeta’s eyes slowly open and he groans.

\---

“Drink up,” Bulma says, holding a glass of water to Vegeta’s lips. “You look like hell.” She sits next to him as he becomes lucid again for the third time. It’s nearly 3 in the morning, and she hasn’t slept a wink.  
“Feel like it, too,” Vegeta grumbles. He puts down the glass and realizes that Bulma’s hand is on his.  
“We were worried sick about you,” Bulma whispers scoldingly. “Why did you run?” 

The throbbing at Vegeta’s temples intensifies and he runs a cold hand over his stubbly face. He’s not prepared to answer that question right now, but he does anyway. “I couldn’t stand to see you thinking I’m a monster.” His voice is low and rough, and he takes another sip of water. “You were terrified of me.” He winces - whether it’s from the dull throbbing in his head or from the memory, he’s not sure.  
Bulma shakes her head adamantly. “I wasn’t.”  
“You were _crying_ ,” Vegeta says. “People cry when they’re terrified.”  
“They also cry when they realize what their friends have been through, you idiot.”  
It takes Vegeta’s very tired and very hungover brain a while to process that. “So you’re… not afraid of me?”  
Bulma pulls him into her arms and holds on. Tightly. “Of course not,” she mumbles against his shoulder. “I told you before, I knew that if you worked for Frieza that you must have done some bad things in your life. I don’t care. I care that you’re safe _now_ , and that you’re happy _now_.”  
“Oh,” is all Vegeta can manage. He reluctantly brings his arms up to Bulma’s back to return the embrace. It feels… good. She’s warm and soft and she smells nice.  
And his head is still absolutely killing him. 

\---

Piccolo and Goku have already found places to sleep: Goku on the couch, and Piccolo out in the car.  
Bulma looks over her shoulder at Vegeta’s sleeping form as she steps outside to the back porch and gazes out over the ocean; the three-quarter moon hangs brightly in the sky and illuminates the waves as they crash on the shore. The steady roaring calms and lulls her. She finds herself beginning to nod off while leaning against the railing, so maybe it would be for the best to find somewhere to lie down for the night. They can figure out what to do tomorrow morning, but for now, rest. 

\---

Bulma rubs her eyes when she awakens in the morning. She checks her phone and frowns at the spotty reception. With nothing better to do, she gets up off the makeshift bed on the floor. She’s getting far too old for this.  
Bulma is the first to rise, she realizes, and therefore takes it upon herself to make a run to the store. Piccolo is still sleeping when she gets to her car, so she taps on the window. He starts when he sees her, but pulls the seat into an upright position and opens the door.  
“Yeah?”  
“I’m going to the store. There’re only protein bars in the cupboards,” she says, thumb over her shoulder. “You wanna come?”  
Piccolo shrugs. “Might as well.” He closes the door and Bulma gets in on the driver’s side. “I think we passed a grocery store on the way here.”  
As she retraces the route they came the night before, Bulma appreciates the simple beauty as the morning sun glints off the tin rooftops. The island where Roshi lives is just off the coast, though it’s currently obscured by a layer of fog that sits heavy over the sea. 

The grocery store is right where Bulma thought it would be. There’s a very tired looking cashier at the till as they walk in. “Good morning,” she yawns.  
Bulma greets her and then moves about the aisles looking for something more suitable than protein bars for breakfast. Piccolo wanders into the produce department and returns with a bag of fruit while Bulma finds the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch. “I’m pretty sure I saw at least one pan in that kitchen,” she remarks. 

When they return to the shack, Goku is still snoring on the couch, but Vegeta is awake and sitting at the kitchen table. There’s an empty protein bar package next to him, and Piccolo raises an eyebrow at it and then shares a look with Bulma.  
“You shaved,” Bulma notes.  
“Hm,” Vegeta says.  
“We’re making pancakes,” Bulma informs him next.  
“With fruit,” Piccolo adds.  
“Hm,” Vegeta says.  
“And then we’re going home. You, too,” Bulma says.  
“I can’t drive right now,” Vegeta says after taking a long drink of water.  
Bulma glances between Piccolo and Goku. “You wanna drive my car?” she asks Piccolo. “I can take Vegeta back in his.”  
Piccolo shrugs. “I don’t see why not,” he says. “As long as you drive at a reasonable speed this time. There’s no rush to get home and I am not going to try to keep up with you otherwise.”  
“Scout’s honor,” Bulma says, holding up two fingers.  
“That’s not even the right gesture,” Piccolo grumbles, shaking his head. “It’s three fingers.” He holds his fingers up the correct way then begins unpacking the ingredients from their grocery trip onto the counter. 

The smell of pancakes brings Goku sniffing into the kitchen. “Oh, wow,” he says, glancing around at the disaster area the kitchen has turned into. “I can’t believe you made these fresh. I’d have just gotten a box mix.”  
“I know,” Bulma sighs. “But _some_ of us like to do things properly.” _And the longer we can keep an eye on him, the better._

Vegeta sits back and observes the three of them as they move around the kitchen. Piccolo is on flipping duty, Bulma makes a sauce out of the fruit, and Goku tidies up as best as he can. They work around each other like a well-oiled machine. Goku places the first plate of pancakes in front of Vegeta. 

“You look like you could use this,” he says, though Vegeta hears Goku’s stomach growl loudly. Vegeta doesn’t protest and instead gives himself a big helping of fruit for the top. “What, no whipped cream?” he asks wryly and immediately regrets his half-hearted joke.  
Bulma whirls around at the comment and points a dripping ladle at him. “Listen, mister, we drove ten hours to find your sorry ass down here AND we went and bought breakfast supplies before you were even awake. Go get your own damn whipped cream.”  
Vegeta meets her eyes for a long moment, then shrugs and digs into his pancakes.  
Piccolo sits down last with a steaming plate consisting of one enormous pancake. As he scoots his chair up to the kitchen table, Bulma sets down her cutlery. “This is so weird,” she remarks, mouth full of pancake. 

Vegeta lifts an eyebrow at her, so she continues after she swallows. “You know, Goku thought you were dead when we found you at first.” She says it so matter-of-factly that Vegeta thinks she’s joking at first. “We almost took you to a clinic or something. But we decided just to keep on eye on you instead. Piccolo thought you just needed to sleep it off. I guess he was right.”  
Vegeta glances over at Piccolo, whose eyes are fixed firmly on his plate.  
“You really gave us a scare, Vegeta,” Bulma continues, voice growing quiet. “But all three of us came because we wanted you to know that we care about you.”  
Goku nods emphatically. Piccolo continues staring at his plate.  
Vegeta reddens and looks away. “Maybe I didn’t want to be found,” he mutters.  
“Bull.”  
Bulma’s face takes on that determined look to it that Vegeta has come to know so well. “That’s pure, utter bull. And you damn well know it.”  
A long silence stretches between them and to Vegeta, it suddenly feels like it’s only him and Bulma at the table. 

“Piccolo! Let’s go explore!” Goku interjects into the moment. His plate is empty. Vegeta silently thanks him. Piccolo finishes his pancakes just as quickly as Goku does, and the two of them vacate the room so fast Vegeta wonders if they teleported out of there. 

Vegeta can’t meet Bulma’s gaze again, so he gets up and starts clearing the table instead. “Maybe I couldn’t face you,” he says quietly as he brushes past her. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to be found.”  
Bulma’s hand catches his wrist and he finally turns to look at her. Her eyes implore him. “Am I really that scary?” she asks quietly. Then she stands and helps him clear the rest of the dishes. Vegeta can feel her eyes on his back the whole time. He says nothing as he puts everything into the sink. “Yes,” he says finally.  
“I am half your size and not nearly as strong. How can you be afraid of me?” 

_Stupid woman. Does she even realize?_ Vegeta wants to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Instead, he walks out to the deck. Bulma, being Bulma, follows.  
“You’re scary because you’re the most normal thing I’ve ever had in my life. I got good at looking normal on the outside, Bulma. I’ve gotten a degree, I have a comfortable job, I have a nice car… but then you waltz into my life with your stupid blue hair and your stupid weird food preferences and you make me believe I’m not some... homicidal maniac at the very core of my being. You almost make me think I could be happy.”  
Bulma frowns while her eyes search Vegeta’s face. He fights the unexpected, overwhelming urge to pull her to him and kiss the unhappy expression off her face. What the hell has gotten into him? Since when does he let these thoughts almost spur him to action?

Bulma cocks her head to the side. “Almost?”  
“I can’t be happy, knowing that I’ve done what I’ve done. I don’t _deserve_ to be happy.” Vegeta grips the railing, grits his teeth, and stares out over the rippling sea.  
“Vegeta,” Bulma says quietly, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “Let’s go for a walk.” He acquiesces as she pulls him down the creaking wooden steps to the soft sand. His bare feet sink into it as she leads him down to the water. And she doesn’t let go. Her grip is firm and sure, and right now, it feels like the only thing anchoring Vegeta to the present. Panic wells up in him as his mind supplies all the reasons he shouldn’t even be looking at her twice.  
“If you were truly rotten to the core, do you think you’d even care about whether or not you deserve to be happy?” Bulma asks.  
Well, she certainly cuts right to the chase, doesn’t she? It’s like she can read his mind. “Bulma, I killed people.” To say it out loud and in front of… _her_ is so surreal.  
“You’ve changed.”  
Vegeta shakes his head assertively. What the hell does she know?  
“Listen, woman. I killed my…” the words ‘best friend’ sit on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t bring himself to say them. “My mentor,” he says instead, though the word rings almost hollow of meaning. Nappa was so much more. Their mutual betrayal still stings even now, a decade later. “He was going to come in between me and Frieza, so I shot him in the head. He’s the last person I ever killed.”  
“Why wasn’t Frieza?” Bulma asks boldly.  
“Turns out I was too late,” Vegeta sniffs. He glances back at the shack, now a little ways down the beach. “Frieza somehow knew what I was planning to do. But he didn’t kill me. He turned me out into the world and said he was going to let it chew me up and spit me out. And if I ever came crawling back with my tail between my legs, he’d put me down himself.” 

“But look at you, now,” Bulma says. “Maybe he had a change of heart. He left you the cafe, after all. You got a degree. You can do anything you want. You can _be_ anyone you want. Whatever the hell Frieza told you be damned.”  
“What good is that if I can’t change my past?” Vegeta says, clenching his free hand into a fist.  
“You’re right, you can’t change the past,” Bulma agrees, and stops walking. Vegeta stops too and turns to look at her. Her eyes spark with intensity and she grabs his other hand. “But you can change what you do from now on. When are you going to realize that you’re in control of your own destiny, Vegeta?”  
Vegeta glances down at her lips as she says his name. The urge to kiss them hits him again and this time he doesn’t struggle against it. This time, for a split second, he believes what she’s saying. And this time, his hands snake around her waist and pull her close to him. He rests his forehead against hers and whispers her name. _”Bulma…”_  
One hand lets go of hers and tentatively comes up to stroke the side of her face. Her skin is so soft, and his hand is so rough -  
At last, something inside of him breaks free and he abandons the unseen bonds that hold him back. He cups her chin in his palm, tilting her head up to meet his as he leans in. He needs her.  
“Vegeta,” she breathes just as his lips find hers. 

Bulma wraps one arm up around his neck and her hand buries itself in Vegeta’s hair, pulling him farther into the kiss. She lets go of his other hand to wrap her arms around his shoulder.  
Vegeta holds her to him like he’s afraid of losing her- and he _is_ afraid. He never wants to let her go. If this moment never ends, it would be too soon. Finally, when Bulma breaks away to catch her breath, he looks her in the eye. “Bulma, I…” he says, eager to apologize and explain himself and-  
His thoughts are cut short when she pulls his face down to hers again. Her body melts against him and she moves her lips fluidly against his. Her tongue brushes over his bottom lip and she nips at it.  
Vegeta tears himself away from her lips and kisses the side of her mouth, her cheek, and her jaw, then trails his tongue to her neck. Bulma gasps as he buries his face against the soft expanse of skin that smells so deliciously of _her_ and rests his other hand on her hip. Her body responds almost immediately to his touch and she presses up against him, eager for more.

Vegeta can feel the desire awakening in him. Before it's too late and he loses all semblance of control and brings her down into the sand with him, he pulls away and stares down at her. God, he’s wanted to kiss her for so long. The desire has been lingering in his subconscious for longer than he realized. Knowing she was within his reach, but that he couldn’t have her because he wasn’t _good enough_ \- it absolutely killed him inside. He still thinks she can do better than the likes of him, and yet here they are. She makes Vegeta want to be better for her sake. And God, does he want to earn her kisses and her approval. 

Bulma bites her lip and gazes up at Vegeta with something he’d like to call lust in her eyes. One minute he’s baring his soul to this woman and the next she wants to jump him- if not for the inconvenient location and the deep-rooted need to do this properly, slowly (if they do it at all), he might oblige her.  
Over. And. Over.  
God. What has she _done_ to him?

\---

Whatever she was expecting of Vegeta when finding him after a week-long bender, it certainly wasn’t _this_. Not that she’s complaining. Bulma stares at Vegeta and worries her lip. It tingles from the sensation of kissing him and she never wants that feeling to go away.  
“Damn.” 

The look Vegeta gives her is absolutely predatory, and she waits for him to swoop in and make her his, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, breathing heavily and looking very, very kissable, among other things. He swallows hard and gapes at her. The moment is broken when Bulma’s phone rings. It startles her and she nearly drops it in the sand as she digs it out of her pocket. The caller ID says that it’s Goku.

“Hello?” she answers, puzzled. They’re not so far down the beach that she can’t see the shack anymore.  
“Bulma? Where are you?” Goku says, voice bordering on hysterical. The line sounds garbled. “I’ve been trying to call you!”  
“I’m just down the beach, what’s wrong?” she asks, glancing over to Vegeta. He immediately snaps to attention, the lust filled gaze of moments ago replaced with stoic alertness.  
“You gotta come back. We have to leave _now_!” The call ends and Bulma is left staring at the phone. Then she moves swiftly into action and runs back toward the shack, and Vegeta follows closely behind. 

“What happened?” Bulma says, panting and out of breath as she runs up the stairs from the beach. Goku and Piccolo have everything packed and ready. The dirty dishes still lay in the sink, but Goku tosses Vegeta’s keys to Bulma and heads out the front door.  
“Krillin called,” Goku yells over his shoulder. “There’s been a fire.” 

\---

 _No, not again,_ Vegeta thinks. Everything becomes a blur as Piccolo throws Vegeta’s haphazardly-packed duffel bag to him. Bulma fishes her keys from her pocket and hands them to Piccolo.  
“Call me. We’ll talk on the way,” Goku says. 

So that’s what Vegeta does. The moment his car door is shut, Bulma whips out of the driveway and onto the road.  
“Uh, the speed limit is 20 here,” Vegeta points out. Bulma is definitely going much, much faster than that.  
“Don’t care. Call Goku for me, would you?” 

“Okay, so the cafe itself isn’t actually on fire, but the building next to it is,” Goku says as he answers the phone, in lieu of a greeting. “Krillin said they had to evacuate and were all standing outside in the parking lot.”  
“When did this happen?” Vegeta asks.  
“About an hour after they opened. It was still dark.”  
“Why didn't they call sooner, then?”  
“I guess I was out of range. There’s really bad cell reception down here.” As if to punctuate his statement, the line crackles loudly in his ear.  
“Well, let’s try to coordinate our gas stops. I estimate we’ll need at least one, if not a second just to get us all the way home,” Bulma says. “Stay close to me, I’ll signal well in advance.” 

\---

“Why the hell did you have to run so far away?” Bulma grouches at Vegeta on the third hour of the drive home. There’s been a silence between them for the past twenty minutes.  
“I didn't think you’d follow,” Vegeta answers sincerely. He smiles, mostly to himself. “I’m glad you did, though.”  
Bulma glances over at him and returns the smile. “Me, too.” She rests her hand on the gearshift. Vegeta, taking the hint, rests his hand on hers. “I should be okay to drive once we hit the next pitstop,” he says. 

Half an hour later, once they’re back within cell range, Goku phones. “Krillin just called. He says there’s minor smoke damage to the walls, but the damage isn’t too extensive.” 

_Thank God,_ Vegeta thinks. “I’ll call some contractors when we get back. Tell Krillin we’ll close down for the next week, at least.” 

When they reach the next gas station, Vegeta fills both his and Bulma’s cars. She tries to refuse, of course, but he waves her away. “Let me,” he commands. She hands over the keys once he’s done, and he slides into the driver’s side. It’s still warm from when she was sitting there.  
“Don’t you want to drive your own car?” Vegeta asks in confusion when Bulma hops in the passenger side.  
Bulma shrugs. “Piccolo can handle it. Besides, I drove all day yesterday. It’s nice to have a break. Besides, I think there are some… things… we should talk about.” 

Vegeta sighs inwardly. He knows this had to come sooner or later, but he’s not really in the mindset to talk about the future right now. There are too many variables and his life is currently a mess. They’re about four hours from home, though, and there’s nothing better to do for the drive.  
He goes to speak but Bulma holds up a finger. “Can I talk first?”  
Vegeta hesitates, then nods, so Bulma continues. “It’s okay if you don’t want to… have a relationship,” she says. “I know that you’re still figuring things out. Hell, even I don’t know if I’m ready for anything right now.”  
Something inside of Vegeta feels incredibly disappointed at that last statement. It must show on his face, or Bulma is better at reading him than she lets on, because she reaches over and puts her hand on his thigh.  
“I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, but I really like you, Vegeta. But I want to do this the right way. I want us both to be at our best if we’re going to be together.”  
_Together_ has a nice ring to it, Vegeta decides. But she’s right. What does he have to offer her? Nothing. Diddly squat, that’s what. “Okay,” he says. “I’d like that.” 

\---

There’s still smoke pouring from the building beside the cafe, but the fireman he speaks to tells Vegeta that the worst of it is out. The moon shines brightly down on them; it looks like it’ll be full in just a few nights’ time. 

Vegeta gets the go-ahead to re-enter the building the next day when he talks to the fire marshall. Goku comes with him to assess the damage.  
“It doesn’t look too bad,” Goku says as he flips the lights on. The acrid stench of smoke is much lesser in the cafe than it was just outside the front door. Vegeta agrees and unlocks the office.  
“I’m just going to check over the security footage,” he says and settles into his computer chair. He pulls the files from the week he’s been away and starts from the day he left. The strange figures don’t show up at all. _Good,_ Vegeta thinks. _Maybe they lost interest._

\---

On the counter of a certain beach shack that’s a ten hour drive way, a flip-phone chimes. 

_Get the hell out,_ the message says. _They’re coming._


	19. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Um. This happened. I'm going to blame Artephile for this one. She knew it was coming allll along, I think...
> 
> Thanks to the amazing Ann_Ominous for your insightful... insights... on this chapter. And for the beta-reading, of course.

“Hey, Vegeta, come look at this,” Goku says. Vegeta rolls his chair so he can stick his head out of the office door.   
“It looks like someone tried to get into the basement.”   
True to his word, there are scuff marks around the lock and dust on the ground.   
“Could be the firemen,” Vegeta dismisses. “They were probably checking to make sure there wasn’t any damage. Guess it wasn’t urgent.”   
Goku shrugs. “Probably,” he agrees.   
Vegeta rolls back in and leans his head on his palm. He can think of a million other things he’d rather be doing than going through this footage. Like pressing a certain blue-haired beauty up against the office door and kissing her senseless. He shakes his head. _Focus, Vegeta,_ he reminds himself. _That comes later._   
The nights pass frame by frame on screen. Vegeta’s finger hovers over the mouse, ready to pause at any moment.   
Three nights before the fire… two nights… and the night of. Nothing. Vegeta leans back in his chair with a sigh of relief. Then he realizes the timestamp on the last video. It ends at five in the morning on the day of the fire and there’s no recorded footage beyond it.   
Goku looks up sharply as Vegeta sprints out of his office and out the front door of the cafe. He follows him outside to find Vegeta looking up at the mangled security camera. It looks like it’s been melted.   
“Do you think the fire…?” Goku begins before Vegeta vehemently shakes his head.   
“Fire was on the other side,” he growls. “This was intentional. Grab your things, we’re going.”   
Goku wordlessly complies. There’s something in Vegeta’s tone that exudes deadly authority and he won’t be caught disobeying. 

\---

“What are you looking for?” Goku asks, leaning against Vegeta’s counter. Vegeta tears through the cabin and mutters to himself.   
“Can’t have gone far, I’ve only been back for a day- shit.”   
“ _What?_ ” Goku asks, annoyed that Vegeta won’t respond.   
“I left it at the shack,” Vegeta groans. “I left the stupid phone at the shack.”   
“But I was on the phone with you on the drive home,” Goku says, scratching the back of his head. “And you texted me this morning.”   
“I have another phone,” Vegeta growls as he flips cushions off of his couch. He stops, looking up at Goku.   
“I don’t know how much Bulma told you about the night I left, but there was a shooting that involved my old gang. We watched it happen. It was way too close to the cafe for my comfort.”   
“I knew that much,” Goku says. “It was all over the news, too.”   
“I have a contact that says there’s been major underworld movement lately. People are gearing up for something, but I don’t know what it is. I need that phone to get in touch with him.” Vegeta furrows his eyebrows and a sudden moment of clarity brightens his eyes. “The basement.”   
“The basement?” Goku repeats, confused. “I don’t follow.”   
“The marks on the door to the basement. The melted camera. Oh my God. They’re coming for the cafe.” He runs for the door, leaving Goku no choice but to follow. Again. 

\---

After a full day with no movement or activity that Vegeta can discern, he begins to second-guess himself. Was it just a coincidence? Was the arsonist just trying to cover his bases by hitting all the security cameras in the area?   
Vegeta doesn’t want to take any chances and sets up a new one. This time, it’s got a live feed that displays not only to the monitors in the shop, but to Vegeta’s laptop as well. It’ll make him feel better to be able to watch from his apartment, especially since he’s got nothing better to do. He hasn’t heard back from the fire marshall about the cause of the fire yet. It’s only three in the afternoon, so he decides to try and sleep before the long night ahead. 

Of course, being as fired up as he is, sleep eludes Vegeta. He tosses and turns but the light streaming in from outside ensures that he won’t catch a wink. So he gets up.   
Vegeta promised himself he wouldn’t call Bulma, but what fun is an all-night stakeout without a partner?   
She answers on the third ring.   
“Vegeta?” she sounds just as surprised to hear from him as he is surprised that he phoned.   
“Listen, there’s a lot to explain, but I wanted to know if you’d like to come spend the night watching security footage with me. It’ll be boring as hell.”   
“Um,” Bulma says. “At the cafe?”   
Vegeta shakes his head before realizing she can’t see him. “No, at my place. I have the feed streaming to my laptop. Consider it a long-distance stakeout. I thought you’d want in on that.”   
“...I’ll be over in an hour.” 

\---

When Bulma arrives, Vegeta tells her everything he discovered when he was with Goku. Then he takes in what she’s wearing.   
“Fuzzy pajamas?” he asks incredulously.  
“And snacks,” Bulma says, referring to the bag she unceremoniously dumps on his kitchen table. “You said stakeout, and I wanted to be comfortable.”   
“It’s four thirty in the afternoon, but I mean, I guess I can put on sweatpants,” Vegeta says. He flushes when he realizes how goddamn cute she looks with the matching top and bottoms. Maybe inviting her to spend the night cuddled up on the couch with him wasn’t the most clever of ideas.  
“Alright, you do that, and I’ll get the food ready. Do you have any ketchup?” Bulma asks, opening Vegeta’s fridge to rummage around.  
Vegeta pauses in the doorway to his bedroom. “I do, but I really don’t want to know what you’re gonna put it on.” 

When Vegeta emerges from his bedroom, he sees that Bulma has made herself right at home. She has a knack for doing that, it seems; not that it bothers him any. She’s currently dipping a cheeto into a small puddle of ketchup that she’s portioned into a bowl.   
“I guess it could be worse,” he says as he takes his spot on the couch next to her. The laptop is already set up; he just needs to make sure the link to the camera is working. Once that’s done, he leans back grabs a handful of cheetos from the bag.   
“Ketchup?” Bulma offers, handing him the small bowl.   
“I’ll pass,” Vegeta says, waving his hand. 

\---

“I think you should take a nap,” Bulma announces at ten pm. “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll keep an eye on the feed and let you know if I see anything off, okay?”   
Vegeta glances toward his bedroom and then shakes his head. “No. I’m staying here to watch.” He’s the one who wanted to do this in the first place, anyway. He kicks the empty cheeto bag to the side and gets up to retrieve another soda from the fridge. After tonight, he really needs to get back to eating properly. His body is already complaining for the lack of exercise and a decent diet over the past week or so.   
When he sits down again, Bulma scoots closer to him and puts her head on his shoulder. The warmth of her body pressed against his comforts him and he puts his arm along the back of the couch behind her.   
Despite his promises to himself that he’ll stay awake all night, Vegeta dozes off at two am with his cheek nestled against Bulma’s soft hair. Her own breathing turned long and steady half an hour ago, lulling him…

Movement flickers on the side of the screen. A tall hooded figure steps out of the shadows and throws a hand sign at the camera before disappearing into the night. 

\---

Vegeta’s eyes fly open and he tries to sit up. There’s an awful crick in his neck and he can’t figure out why until-   
Oh yeah.  
Bulma snuggles up closer to him, her arm draped across his middle. When did this happen? The last thing Vegeta remembers is watching the video feed, then resting his head on hers… And, damn, he fell asleep. The timestamp says it’s three am, so he can’t have been sleeping for too long, at least.  
He decides to let her rest. This is his problem, anyway, and it was his lack of self-control that made him call her and invite her over. And it’s that same lack of self-control that now persuades him to stroke her long, soft hair. In that moment, he can see a future where he gets to have this whenever he wants.  
 _She’s so beautiful_ , he muses. If only she could be his _now_. He’s never been a patient man.

Bulma finally awakens when Vegeta tries to extract himself from her embrace to use the bathroom.   
“What time is it?” she asks groggily, not seeming to be aware of her surroundings.   
“Just about four,” Vegeta says. “We fell asleep.”   
That gets her attention. She sits up, suddenly alert. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. We should have taken shifts…”   
Vegeta shrugs. “I’ll go back over the footage later. Shouldn’t be an issue.”   
When he returns from the bathroom break, Bulma is sitting cross-legged on his couch. Her hair is a bit of a mess with is usually-straight and neat strands sticking out every which way.   
_Adorable,_ Vegeta thinks to himself.   
“Do you want anything to drink?”   
“Maybe some tea,” Bulma says. “It’s kind of cold in here.”   
Vegeta nods and moves to turn the thermostat up. That’s probably part of the reason he fell asleep so easily, too. Once the kettle is on to boil, he takes his spot on the couch again. Bulma wasn’t kidding when she mentioned how cold she was - despite her fuzzy pajamas, she shivers and tucks her feet underneath her. Vegeta has half a mind to help warm her up himself. If only she’d allow it. ...Would she? 

“Hey,” Bulma says softly. “Are you doing alright?”   
Vegeta shakes his head to bring himself back to reality, realizing he’d been staring into the distance while he daydreamed about holding her close to him. He gives a noncommittal shrug and avoids the thoughtful look she gives him. The longer he looks at her, the more he thinks about kissing her again.   
He imagines what it would feel like to be able to hold her, to have her straddle him and move against him... He imagines her skin against his, an electricity between them that-  
Well, he needs to get off _that_ train of thought before it gives rise to unwelcome visitors. 

“You really should go sleep. I’ll keep an eye on it until the sun’s up. Only three more hours.” Bulma gives him a soft smile that’s so full of genuine concern and caring that Vegeta almost can’t say no.   
“I’ll manage,” he says. Bulma’s lips curve into a soft smile and he finds his mind almost wandering again, thinking about how he wants to bite her bottom lip and trail kisses down her neck. “Maybe you should rest, though.”   
Bulma refuses as well. “If you’re not going to give up, then neither am I,” she says stubbornly.   
Vegeta shrugs. “If you insist.” He watches her from the corner of his eye as she turns back toward the laptop. 

It’s a tough three hours filled with _not_ touching Bulma the way he’d like to, but Vegeta manages to keep his hands to himself. He knows she doesn’t want to pursue anything right now, and he doesn’t want to ruin something with her by moving too quickly.   
Bulma stands and yawns. “Looks like it’s been an uneventful night. What were we going to do if we _did_ see something, anyway?”   
Vegeta shrugs. “I was going to go deal with it myself,” he says. “Scare ‘em off so they don’t come back.” He crackles his knuckles in anticipation. “Been awhile since I’ve had a good old-fashioned fistfight with someone who isn’t freakishly overpowered.”   
“It’s always about force with you, isn’t it?” Bulma says, shaking her head. “Why can’t you just let the authorities handle it?”   
“Bulma,” Vegeta says as patiently as he can. “You know why.”   
“I know, I know. But this is the fire marshal's job. He’s not even a cop.”   
“I don’t trust _anybody_. It’s taken me years to stop looking over my shoulder. The first time I’ve ever truly been able to relax in my life was when I learned that Frieza was finally dead. This kind of thing doesn’t just go away.” He waves his hand dismissively and sighs. “And besides. You know I’m… damaged. I’m still not sure why you bother putting up with me.” 

Bulma reaches out to put her hand on his shoulder. “Because I like you, you idiot.”   
Vegeta flushes and looks away. _That’s part of the problem._ “Maybe you’re the idiot,” he mutters. “But you should get some rest. I’ll sleep on the couch.”   
She stands when he does. Vegeta turns to get a blanket from the closet when she doesn’t move first, but she stops him by grabbing his arm. “I’m not an idiot,” she informs him. “And you can trust me. I hope I can prove that to you, some day.” Her grip loosens and travels down until her fingers brush his hand. He turns his palm toward hers instinctively and she takes the opportunity to lace their fingers together.   
“But I am going to be here for you. That’s what friends are for.”   
“Guess I haven’t been a very good one, then. I don’t imagine that friends are supposed to run away.”   
Bulma steps in closer to him and tilts her chin up to meet his eyes confidently. “But you _have_ been here. Nobody expects you to be strong all the time, Vegeta. Except you, but you set unrealistic standards for yourself.”   
“I have to keep up appearances somehow.”   
Bulma bites her lip and it is so tantalizing that Vegeta physically pulls away to stop from leaning in and biting it for her instead. She gets his blood boiling, and he knows that she knows it.   
Bulma, instead of pulling away as well, leans further into him. “I personally think you look… just... _fine_.”   
Wait. Was that a compliment?  
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses Vegeta on the cheek before backing away and changing the subject. “Alright. If we’re having a sleepover, I’m going to wear my actual pajamas,” she says. She rummages around in one of the bags she left by the front door and produces a spaghetti strap top and shorts.   
“Were you planning on sleeping here the whole time?” Vegeta asks. His hand ghosts over his face where she kissed him.   
“I like to be prepared.”   
“Those are very…” Vegeta says, realizing just how tiny the shorts are, “Small.”   
“And comfortable, too. I get too warm if I have to wear much else when I’m sleeping.”   
“You had no trouble falling asleep on me earlier,” Vegeta points out.   
Bulma says nothing, but she does wink at him as she closes the bathroom door behind her. Vegeta takes the opportunity to turn the heat off again so he can actually get some sleep. Within moments, Bulma re-emerges in her new, much more attractive sleepwear.   
“What do you think?” she asks, giving a twirl.   
Vegeta says nothing, so she prances up to him and wiggles her eyebrows. “Well?”   
“Are you _trying_ to make me kiss you, woman?”   
Bulma looks up at him with hooded eyes. “I might be,” she says teasingly.   
Vegeta rolls his eyes. “I thought we were gonna do this properly. Take it slow. Isn’t that what you wanted?”   
“No time like the present,” Bulma says, stepping closer and running her hand through his hair.   
“You are a temptress,” Vegeta grumbles. He’d be lying if he said that she wasn’t breaking down his defenses very, very quickly, though. Hell, _he_ wants it. Who is he to withhold her desires? 

“Not a very good one, apparently,” Bulma pouts. “I can’t even get you to kiss me. Do you even _want_ to?”   
That does it.   
“Oh, I’ll kiss you,” he growls.   
The primal part of Vegeta’s brain takes over and he pushes her up against the nearest wall - like he’s been fantasizing about doing ever since the kiss on the beach - and sucks her lip in between his teeth.   
And she has the gall to _smile_ into it! Infuriating woman. If she likes when he acts possessive, then he’ll show her possessive. His hand finds its way down her back and grips her ass; there’s barely anything between his hand and her bare skin and it is _amazing_. He squeezes tight, like he can’t get enough.  
And neither can Bulma.  
 _“More,”_ she moans. 

Bulma pulls Vegeta closer to her and hikes a leg up to hook it on his hip. She runs her tongue along his upper lip and he follows her lead, letting her in.   
This is much, much better than last time.   
Vegeta’s far too tired to be shy when his arousal makes itself known through the loose fabric of his sweatpants. He pins Bulma to the wall with his body, and his hand finds its way under her waistband to grab at her ample behind with fewer layers in his way.   
Bulma moans into his mouth and when he finally pulls away to catch his breath, her lips are red and her eyes are hooded as she looks up at him. “Maybe we should get some _sleep,_ no?” she asks, out of breath herself.   
Vegeta wordlessly nods and pulls her into his bedroom. He makes sure the curtains are shut tight and then turns back toward her. She sits on his bed with legs crossed and body angled to show off her best assets to him. Vegeta thinks he’d like it even better if there weren’t clothes in the way. He stalks across the bedroom to her and, with a kiss, pushes her down flat against his bed. 

Bulma guides him in between her hips, wrapping one leg behind his and grabbing at every available surface on the expanse of his back in order to pull him ever closer. Her lips drag against his jaw and she dances her tongue across the sensitive skin just behind his ear.   
Vegeta shivers at that, thrusting against her supple body as the sensation shoots straight to his groin.   
“God, Bulma-” he groans when she meets his thrust with one of her own. He settles his weight on her body and explores her torso with one hand, slipping it under her shirt. His progress is impeded by her _goddamn_ bra and he sets about working the hooks away from each other in order to get at the prize beneath it.   
It takes him longer than anticipated, however, and Bulma wriggles upright in order to assist him. He frowns at her, not wanting to admit defeat, but she gives him a smirk as she reaches behind her back with one hand and easily separates hook from clasp. She pulls the straps down over her shoulders and reaches under her shirt to toss it to the side.  
“Practice,” she grins, then leans forward to kiss him.   
Vegeta takes the opportunity to run his hands unhindered across her back, taking care not to scratch her delicate skin with the rough callouses on his palms.   
Bulma pulls him back down on top of her and they find a rhythm- he thrusts against her and she pulls him in with both legs wrapped around him. It doesn’t even occur to Vegeta that they still have all their clothes on until Bulma’s hand pulls at his waistband.   
That can be remedied.   
To distract her from his own clothing, Vegeta rucks Bulma’s shirt upward to reveal her bare chest to the chill of the early morning air. He groans at the effect the cold has on her, wanting nothing more than to suck the hardened peak of her breasts into his mouth and warm them up with his tongue. He’s not a patient man, but he knows that Bulma is not a patient woman either and he decides to torment her. Starting with the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder, where he pauses to suck and nip, he grazes her teeth across her skin. He moves to her collarbone and-  
“ _Vegeta._ ”  
_Fuck_ if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard. His name on her lips makes him want to have all of her, right now. But he knows that if he bides his time, he will be richly rewarded. He moves to her other collarbone and grins against her as she squirms beneath him.   
Bulma attempts to fight back by digging the pads of her thumbs into his hipbones to elicit a reaction from him. It works, momentarily, and his hips stutter in their languid rhythm before he continues his ministrations. She mourns the loss of exquisite pressure against her core when he slides down her body to- oh, fuck- 

Vegeta’s tongue flicks out and circles her nipple before he leans back and blows a hot breath over it. She shudders with the intensity of the sensation and tries desperately to pull his head back toward her chest.   
“Please,” she moans, biting her lip and arching her back to push her breasts toward him.   
“Please, what?” Vegeta grins lasciviously.   
“Just…” too lost in the moment to find the words, Bulma wraps her hand into his hair and grips a handful, pulling him back to her. “Please.”   
“Oh, like this?” Vegeta asks, laving his tongue around the swell of flesh, but not where she wants him to.  
Bulma shakes her head vehemently. “More.”   
Vegeta moves to the other side, keeping eye contact with her as his tongue inches toward the darkened nub. It’s an agonizingly slow journey. He wants her in his mouth _now_ , but he knows that it’s all the more torturous for her. Finally, finally- he grazes his teeth over the hard flesh and sucks ever so gently.   
And Bulma absolutely loses her shit.   
“Oh, fuck me,” she moans. “Please- just- goddamn.” She writhes prettily beneath him and Vegeta cannot get enough.  
“Like that, do we?” he grins. He tongues at her other nipple and is enjoying the way he can take her apart so easily when he’s struck with an idea. With a hand on each breast, Vegeta pushes them together so that he can suckle both of them at once.   
The resulting moans tell him that this is absolutely mindblowing.   
He’ll definitely have to save that one for later. 

“Vegeta-” Bulma manages, finally.   
“Mm?” he says, back to enjoying one breast at a time once he’s decided she’s had enough.   
“Take off your damned shirt.”   
“Then I’ll have to stop _this_ ,” he says, punctuating the last word with a hard suck.   
“Just do it,” she gasps.   
Vegeta would do anything at all if she asked at this point if it meant getting to have more of her all to himself. So he obliges, pulling the black shirt over his head in one swift motion. Bulma responds to this by turning them over so she can straddle him. She pulls her shirt off the rest of the way as well, tossing it aside to join the ever-growing pile of clothing on the floor. Her hands run down the hard planes of his chest and she hums appreciatively. “You- are fucking hot,” she announces as she takes in his well-toned abs.   
“Well, I do work out,” Vegeta says, quirking an eyebrow. Bulma responds to him by grinding against his erection, effectively cutting off any further snarky comments. 

Just then, Vegeta’s ringtone chimes from the living room. Bulma looks over her shoulder to the doorway.   
“Ignore it,” Vegeta says and thrusts his hips upward off the bed, seeking the friction and relief he so desperately needs. It continues ringing, and ringing, and ringing- before abruptly cutting off. Vegeta uses the blessed silence to pull Bulma toward him so he can-  
Another ringtone. Not his.  
“Shit, that’s mine,” Bulma mumbles. “That can’t be a coincidence. Should I…?”   
Though he’s painfully hard, Vegeta knows that reality calls. He really, really doesn’t want to answer, but- damn. Bulma’s climbing off of him and he watches her as she disappears into the other room.   
His hands find their way down his torso and he cups his cock through his sweatpants, stroking his length with a thumb and forefinger, waiting for Bulma to return…

“Yeah, he’s here,” Bulma says. “Wait, what?”   
She appears swiftly back in the room, holding her phone out to Vegeta solemnly. Her eyes betray her panic. “It’s Goku,” she says. 

“Someone broke into the cafe last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	20. Desperate Part I: Break-in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is HUGE so I am breaking it into two parts. I have the second part about 60% complete and if all goes well, I'll be able to post it by tomorrow night. I just didn't want to leave you guys waiting any longer. I've been really anxious to post!  
> Thank you to Ann_Ominous for being my cheerleader, beta, and all-around ideas gal. 
> 
> This chapter features art by VEGETApsycho, who is an amazing content creator and artist. I never thought my little AU would catch the attention of such a great artist, so thank you!

They leave for the cafe so fast that Bulma doesn’t even have time to pull on more than one of Vegeta’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. She shivers in the front seat of his Mercedes as he runs to meet Goku at the front door the moment the car is in park.  
“Should I call the police?” Goku asks, wringing his hands nervously and staring at the destroyed lock on the front door.  
“No,” Vegeta snaps as he brushes past his assistant manager. He crouches in front of the door and runs his fingers along the damage- it looks like somebody used a battering ram.  
“You won’t get insurance if you don’t make a police report,” Goku mutters as he walks through the door after Vegeta. The cafe area itself appears to be untouched. The chairs are still up on the tables, the smell of smoke still drifts lightly in the air, and even the equipment behind the counter is still present.  
Vegeta jiggles the office door handle to find that it’s still locked. He opens it with his key, but there’s nothing missing - his computer, the files - they’re all there.  
“It’s the basement,” Goku says, moving further down the hallway. “The lock’s broken open the same way as the front door.”  
“So somebody _was_ trying to get in during the fire,” Vegeta mutters mostly to himself. He tentatively pushes the door only for it to swing open unhindered. The entire doorknob on the other side is missing, he finds.  
“What if someone is still down there?” Goku asks as Vegeta flicks on the switch to illuminate the staircase.  
“Then they’re dead meat,” Vegeta growls.  
“Not literally, I hope,” Goku says as he descends the stairs after Vegeta.

There isn’t anybody downstairs. In fact, there isn’t a single thing out of place- except for the walls, which are torn to shreds. Drywall lays strewn across the floor, and they kick up dust as they step into it.  
But that’s not all.  
There’s a note.  
It’s laying on the floor, resting against the doorframe like somebody dropped it on their way out.  
But Vegeta knows that it didn’t find itself there in such a careless manner. Senses long-dormant and dulled by years away from the business come roaring to life. His dark eyes narrow and he surveys the scene with a fresh point of view.  
The point of view of a cold-blooded mercenary whose comfortable life on the side has just been compromised. 

“What does it say?” Goku asks, breaking through Vegeta’s concentration and reaching for the small folded paper in Vegeta’s fist.  
Vegeta uncrumpled it and hands it to Goku silently, waiting for him to understand the weight of the situation and to turn tail and run before this all comes to a head.  
Instead, Goku reads it and just shakes his head, confused.  
“I don’t get it,” he says.  
_Of course he wouldn’t,_ Vegeta berates and comforts himself all at once. 

The note itself is in beautiful, swirling penmanship. The offwhite paper is thick, the lines of green ink are crisp and clean, and the message upon it is sinister. 

\---

Bulma stalks down the stairs to the basement. Vegeta is crouched next to a pile of dust on the floor, while Goku examines the dismantled wall.  
“What happened?” she asks, alarmed as she looks around the disastrous scene.  
“I think there was something behind these walls,” Goku says, thumbing a particularly jagged cut in the drywall. He sets the note down as he uses his phone flashlight to examine the other side. “Did you have it renovated down here?” he asks over his shoulder.  
“Minimally,” Vegeta says, scouting the rest of the room. He looks from wall to wall and narrows his eyes. “Hmm…”  
Bulma wraps her arms around herself. It feels a lot chillier in here than it did upstairs. “Is this what they broke in for? To vandalize?”  
Vegeta shakes his head. “No. Stay down here, I’m going to check something in the office.”  
After he leaves, Bulma turns to Goku. “What’s this?” she asks, picking up the note where he left it.  
Goku shrugs. “It was on the floor when we got here. Vegeta seemed startled by it, but I’m not sure why.”  
“Romans 12:19,” Bulma reads aloud. “A scripture? Do we have some sort of religious break and enter artist on our hands?”  
Goku shrugs. “Who knows? This whole situation doesn’t make sense.”  
Bulma googles the verse on her phone.  
“Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord,” she reads aloud. “What the hell does that mean?” 

\---

Vegeta finds the spot on the tape where he’s certain he fell asleep. Sure enough, a hooded figure comes into view right on time. This time, there’s a face visible - or the bottom half of one, anyway. A chill runs through Vegeta as his theory is confirmed: the unmistakeable jawline and sadistic smile can only belong to one person.  
His phone rings again. The number looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where from.  
“Hello?” he answers cautiously.  
“Vegeta.” The voice is a whisper. “Why the hell haven’t you been returning my texts?” Vegeta looks around his office in confusion, trying to figure out who- oh.  
“Raditz?” he hisses, his voice also dropping into a whisper. “I left my phone in the old safe-house by accident.”  
“Shit. Are you at the cafe right now?”  
“Why?” Vegeta asks suspiciously.  
“I know about the fire. I think it was a diversion. There was another break-in early in the morning today, and this goes way deeper than I thought it did. I saw-”  
“Can you meet me tonight?” Vegeta cuts him off. He can’t discuss this here, and he can’t risk using his personal phone either.  
“Yeah, of course. It’ll be dark at 6:30. Meet me at the usual place,” Raditz says, then hangs up. 

Vegeta watches the rest of the footage from when he was asleep, but there’s nothing else to see. He sighs and flips through the rolodex on his desk until he finds the entry he’s looking for under G: Ginyu Construction & Renovation, Ltd.  
_Call us if you ever need any more work done,_ they’d said. _We’ll give you a special deal._  
“Mr. Ginyu? Yeah, it’s Vegeta from the Z Cafe calling. There’s been a break-in and some walls were destroyed in the process. I was wondering if you’d be available to send one of your guys to fix it.”  
“Won’t have anybody available until later tonight,” the gruff voice on the other end of the phone says. “But I know a guy who likes working overtime when he can. I’ll send him this evening.”  
“Great, I’ll have my assistant manager let him in.” 

\---

Zarbon smiles as he watches as Vegeta sits down in the cafe office. The second break-in was a perfect cover for the first - and it gave him an opportune time to set up his own hidden cameras. The fact that the audio is crisp enough to hear a mouse squeak is only an added bonus. He can hear the suspicious tone in Vegeta’s voice as he answers his cell. 

Zarbon tents his fingers and leans forward with interest as Vegeta’s phone conversation turns to whispering. So, Raditz, huh? _That’s_ how Vegeta thinks he’s so informed about what’s going on in his own cafe. How cute. Zarbon always did think that Frieza should have wiped out the whole Saiyan task force when he had the chance, rather than cutting Vegeta loose. Even Raditz had eventually outgrown his usefulness. Frieza let him think he could do whatever he wanted, and the long-haired oaf never had an inkling that every little move of his was being watched.  
No matter. Zarbon would get what he wanted eventually. Like his predecessor, his ability to wait for the perfect moment to strike has always been one of his strengths. That patience had been Frieza’s greatest asset against the foolhardy Saiyans’ tendency to rush headlong into a situation without considering all the options. To them, their options were either fight or die. 

In Frieza’s absence, Zarbon had quickly gained a measure of the respect and fear that Frieza’s Army had displayed for their former leader. He had never quite earned it in full, however, and the very thought of it still irks him.  
The fact that he has to hand the reigns back over after all these months is salt in a bitter wound. 

\---

“I’ve got somebody coming in to repair the walls tonight,” Vegeta informs Goku. “I need you to be here to let them in, as I have some other matters to attend to.”  
“Like what?” Bulma asks, head tilted to the side. “Need some company?” 

“If you’ve got nothing better to do all day,” he concedes with a smirk. “But there’s something I need to do alone later.”  
As he locks up the front door, he pulls Goku aside. “After you let him in, please let Piccolo know what’s going on. I saw something on the footage and I do not want anybody else to panic, or we’ll have a bigger mess to deal with.”  
Goku nods, and it’s a credit to him that he doesn’t question Vegeta’s order as the latter follows Bulma to his car. 

\---

Upon arriving back at the cabin, Vegeta realizes he’s going to need to sleep if he’s going to have a productive night. Bulma makes no move to go home when he announces this fact, so within minutes they find themselves cuddled up in Vegeta’s bed with the lights out.  
Bulma snuggles against his torso and he wraps his arm around her, drifting off to sleep to the sound of her steady breathing. 

\---

Bulma is a very sound sleeper, Vegeta discovers. His alarm goes off at quarter to six and he springs into action. Bulma doesn’t even move as he shifts off the bed and rummages around his room for the appropriate all-black clothing.  
Knowing that he can trust her to lock up after she leaves, Vegeta leaves his key on the table and slips quietly out the door.  
The dark sky looms endlessly overhead; the full moon lights his path, but it also makes it easier for him to be seen. He sticks to the shadows as best he can. Upon the approach to the old meeting spot, he sees that Raditz has already arrived.  
“How the hell did you get my private number?” Vegeta greets him. “That was reckless of you to call me like that.”  
“I know. I’m sorry. What kind of recon man would I be if I couldn’t get your number, though?” Raditz asks in a hushed tone. “And besides, it was important.”  
“You said the fire was a diversion,” Vegeta says. Straight to the point. No time to waste.  
“Pretty sure, anyway,” Raditz shrugs. “I happened to be in the area when I heard it on my police scanner. So I came by. There was already a crowd gathered and it was easy to blend in.”  
_Convenient,_ Vegeta thinks suspiciously. “Alright, so why was it a diversion?”  
“Well, with everyone watching the firefighters who were actually fighting the fire, I saw two slip into the cafe. I don’t think anybody else noticed them.”  
“Okay…” Vegeta says, urging him to continue.  
“They weren’t in there long. Maybe five minutes? But another fire truck arrived and went around back as soon as they came out.”  
“That’s all you have to go on?”  
“That, and the fact that the break-in happened the day after. Like they were finishing the job.”  
“Alright, so what were they after?”  
Raditz shrugs. “You know how crafty Frieza was. The cafe was probably a front.”  
“His lawyer said the business was legit. I couldn’t find any evidence of laundering when I looked over the ledger…”  
“Doesn’t mean that he couldn’t hide bricks in the walls,” Raditz says. “Who says it had to be strictly money-laundering? Hell knows he had enough other places to do it. Gyms, salons, motels- he even has a construction company.”  
“You don’t say?” Vegeta asks. “Looks like he expanded his empire exponentially after I left.”  
“Yeah, the construction company was his pride and joy, though. They were his task force after we disbanded the Saiyans. They infiltrated and took down companies from the inside. Nobody pays any attention to the trade workers. They call themselves the Ginyu Force.”  
Vegeta looks up sharply at Raditz. “Did you say Ginyu?”  
Raditz nods. “Yeah, why?”  
“Shit.” Vegeta stands and runs his hands through his hair.  
“You okay? You’re white as a sheet.”  
“ _Ginyu Construction_ are the guys that did the renos on the cafe. They’re… shit, they’re there right now repairing the damage in the basement. Kakarot is with them.”  
Raditz’s eyes widen as understanding dawns on him. “Oh.”  
“I need to get to the cafe.”  
“Let’s drive,” Raditz offers. 

Vegeta doesn’t think twice and follows Raditz to where he parked his old beater, several blocks away. Though dark, the streets are still busy with the last of the 9-5 workers on their way home. As they race through the city as fast as Raditz dares drive, Vegeta taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest. Once they reach the cafe, he’s out before Raditz barely has time to park.  
The lights are all off inside, which can’t be a good sign.  
Vegeta draws his gun and motions to Raditz to take the back entrance. “Break down the door if you have to,” Vegeta instructs him and sends him on his way. 

\---

The front door is unlocked. That is _definitely_ not a good sign. Vegeta debates turning on the lights - if there’s somebody still here, it would alert them to his presence. But his vision is also severely limited, meaning if that somebody heard him come in, they’d have the advantage. He opts to move around in the dark. The light shining in through the front windows from the street lamp is enough to see by for now.  
Raditz meets him at the other side, the back door apparently also unlocked. Vegeta knows he didn’t leave it that way. After clearing the main floor of the cafe, Vegeta nods to Raditz.  
The basement. 

They creep down the stairs, Raditz taking up Vegeta’s flank and listening for any signs of activity. One of the stairs creaks under their weight and Vegeta freezes- before continuing the rest of the way. It is pitch black down here, but there’s also nowhere else to run.  
Vegeta’s hand searches the wall until it finds the light and flicks it on. He swings the gun around the room in a preliminary sweep, but it looks the same as he left it earlier.  
Drywall everywhere.  
“Kakarot?” he asks, tentatively, quietly. Raditz passes him and checks behind the boxes and equipment. Nothing.  
“Why aren’t they here?” Vegeta mutters, mostly to himself.  
“Maybe they haven’t arrived yet?” Raditz asks hopefully.  
“Don’t be dense,” Vegeta growls. “The doors are unlocked. Kakarot wouldn’t leave them that way, they were definitely here.” He pulls out his phone to three missed calls from Bulma and two from Goku. Dismissing the notifications from Bulma, Vegeta calls Goku instead.  
There’s no answer. In fact, in the middle of the second ring, the call goes directly to voicemail. That’s troubling.  
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Raditz says and then shivers.  
_Me too_ , Vegeta thinks. 

\---

When she wakes up, Bulma discovers that the bed is empty. Vegeta’s side is cool, but there’s a hint of warmth indicating that he can’t have left too long ago. She groggily sits up and rubs her eyes.  
After opening an uneaten bag of chips from her stockpile, Bulma tidies up after their night of snacking and… other things. She folds her clothes and puts her bra back on, preparing to go back home. She shoves all the wrappers and chip bags into the garbage before turning to survey her work. There’s a key on the table which Bulma assumes is meant for her to use to lock up after herself.  
Cursing the fact that it’s so dark and cold outside, Bulma debates whether or not to stay a while longer until Vegeta returns. He might invite her to stay another night - not that they’ll get any sleeping donel. Her face warms at the thought, and she decides that it’s not an unwelcome fantasy when an image of shirtless Vegeta appears in her mind. Yeah, she could definitely go for seeing that again, up close and personal.  
Damn.  
So much for taking it slow. 

There’s a certain chill in the air as Bulma opens the front door. Maybe she will head home for the night, and call Vegeta to see if he wants her company. She doubts he’ll refuse her, after all, he seemed just as eager as she had been earlier. But it’s still early, so for now, she decides to call Goku and see if he’s at the cafe yet. Upon finding out that he’s on his way over, she tells him she’ll meet him there after she gets changed. 

\---

It’s much less eerie in the cafe with the lights on, Vegeta decides. Having to navigate the familiar terrain in the dark makes it feel like somewhere completely new. He rummages through the rolodex on his desk to find the number on the Ginyu Construction card, but when he calls, all he receives is a pleasant, if not mostly robotic in tone lady who informs him that this number is no longer in service.  
Well, that can’t be good.  
“Try Kakarot again,” Raditz suggests. He flips through his phone and fires off a series of quick texts to his contacts, trying to figure out what happened here.  
“The cameras,” Vegeta says suddenly. “I should have checked the footage. Idiot.” He smacks his forehead as he pulls it up on the computer and rewinds it to the point where he left earlier that day.  
Nothing of note happens until about 6:38, and by that time, it’s already long dark. Goku appears on the camera and leans against the door, waiting for about five minutes until he stands at attention. Moments later, Bulma appears on the screen. She joins him in leaning and waiting, and another five . minutes pass when Goku waves at somebody off camera. This time, the man who appears on camera is somebody that Vegeta only vaguely recognizes from the renovations he had done on the café months ago.  
The long, white hair, nearly rivalling Raditz’s in length, hasn’t changed at all. The man on screen is Australian, if Vegeta remembers correctly. He approaches Goku, shakes his hand, and then follows him and Bulma into the cafe.  
After what seems like ages - and maybe a bit of fast-forwarding - there’s movement on the camera at the rear of the building. Bulma exits first, then Goku, and then finally the Australian, holding a gun to Goku’s head. They leave in the direction of the road behind the cafe and soon disappear from the camera’s sight.  
“Well, at least we know which way they went,” Raditz says.  
Vegeta is already on his feet and heading out the back door. Raditz catches up to him in the parking lot.  
“Which way?” he asks.  
“Here,” Vegeta says, running in the direction that he saw them leave on the camera. It would be hell trying to find them, but Vegeta gets the distinction that they’re being used as bait for him. Which means that he’s running into the Australian’s trap under-armed and under-manned. Raditz is a good recon man, he always has been, but his strong suit was never the head-on battles. Those were Nappa’s specialty. He was the brute force of the group, and Vegeta was the brains behind every operation.  
“If I wanted to lead someone into a trap, where would I take them?” Vegeta asks himself quietly, though out loud.  
“There,” Raditz points to a warehouse across the way. The industrial district of the city brushes close to the cafe. It’s a strategic location if one wanted to do exactly what the Australian is doing now, and Vegeta can’t help but wonder if Frieza had intended this all along. Surely his second-in-command, Zarbon, was behind all of this. The man was loyal to Frieza but had his own diabolical outlook on the world, one that Vegeta knew back in the day that made him dangerous.  
He doesn’t doubt that anything about him has changed. It appears to Vegeta that Zarbon is enacting the self-proclaimed Lord of the city’s final plans. This is his legacy.  
Revenge. 

\---

Vegeta’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out hurriedly. Nobody else texts him except Goku and Bulma. Sure enough, it is from Goku- but it’s a picture of him tied up, blindfolded, and gagged.  
“Just wait till you see the girl,” the accompanying message says. 

Vegeta’s blood boils as he races across the road, paying no heed to the vehicles approaching him at breakneck speed. Raditz is a little more careful, waiting for a second gap in traffic before joining Vegeta on the other side. He has a lot of catching up to do, however, as Vegeta runs ahead to the warehouse, gun at the ready once more. 

_This is so cliche,_ Vegeta sighs inwardly. But he knows that there’s a reason for that, since abandoned warehouses make for excellent hiding places. He approaches the back door as Raditz finally catches up to him. He fixes his old brother-in-arms in a steely gaze, silent words passing between them as they prepare to break inside.  
They could die tonight. 

\---

The warehouse is empty. There’s not a soul around, and Vegeta knows because he checked every. Single. Corner.  
Raditz approaches from the opposite end, shaking his head and shrugging helplessly. “Sorry, man, I really thought this would be the place.”  
Vegeta opens the message again and zooms in, trying to glean information from Goku’s surroundings. The background looks vaguely familiar, Vegeta thinks.  
It hits him as they leave the warehouse to continue their search: it’s the inside of the gravity room, and he recognizes it from Bulma’s presentation.  
“Come on,” he tells Raditz as he runs back across the road to the car. They race back to Capsule Corp. Bulma’s lab comes into view as Vegeta directs Raditz along the small private roads that crisscross the property. The gravity room is located just outside. 

For the third time today, Vegeta approaches with his gun held in front of him. The door is unlocked and Raditz pulls Vegeta back before he can go rushing in headlong.  
“Don’t you think we should formulate a plan?” Raditz echoes Vegeta’s own words on dozens of missions back to him. “You know you’re running into a trap. They’ll be ready for you.”  
“I don’t care,” Vegeta says, and is surprised to realize that… he doesn’t. The lives of Goku and Bulma are of such importance to him that he was ready to run in, guns blazing. How unlike him.  
“Well, asshole, you should. My life is on the line here, too, you know. And you know I’ll follow you come hell or high water, so I’d appreciate if you took a little time.”  
“They already know we’re here,” Vegeta says. “There’s no way that they don’t.”  
“Alright, what does the inside look like?”  
Vegeta pauses to think, trying to remember back to the presentation Bulma gave. The inside of the gravity room was circular, spacious, and had a wide central column in the middle. The most strategic place to be is the other side of that pillar, as it would provide immediate protection from anybody entering the room.  
Vegeta’s thoughts are interrupted by a mechanical whirring and he realizes that the room is powering up. As succinctly as possible, he explains to Raditz what’s going to go down in the next ten seconds. Then, on the count of three, Raditz slams open the door and Vegeta rushes in, ready to fire at the first sign of any Ginyu Force members or Zarbon himself. 

He doesn’t expect Bulma to be front and center and only narrowly avoids twitching his finger against the trigger and ending her life. Whoever put her there knows him far too well for his liking. He unties her blindfold and she glares at him defiantly before her gaze softens. She’d been expecting someone else, Vegeta realizes. He cocks his head to the side before rushing to untie her from her binds, releasing the cloth from her head first so she can speak.  
“The room, they turned it on,” she gasps as Vegeta uses his pocket knife to slice through her bonds with ease.  
“Where’s Kakarot?”  
“There,” Bulma points to the pillar. As soon as Vegeta has her feet untied, she stands and gets ready to run to her friend. “There’s a man there,” she whispers. “One of the construction workers… I don’t understand, is he trying to hold us for ransom because of who I am?”  
“This isn’t about you, woman,” Vegeta growls low. “This is bigger than you realize, and I need you to get out of here. Now.” The commanding tone he uses on her is not unlike the one he used to command his small team at the height of his glory. His authority radiates from him and Bulma defiantly meets his eye for a long moment. “You’ll need to turn off the room as soon as you can. They don’t know what they’re doing.”  
“I will. _Go_.”  
She nods and exits the building behind him.  
“I like when civilians listen,” Raditz mutters behind him.  
Vegeta narrows his eyes at him, and then creeps across the room, ready for anything. He can already feel the increased gravity tugging at his feet like an undertow. As he rounds the pillar, he sees the Australian and Goku, as expected. But in the same moment he takes aim at the Aussie’s head, he hears someone else.  
“Ah, ah, ah,” a distinctly British voice warns him. “Bad idea, Prince Vegeta.” 

_Zarbon._

“I should have known,” Vegeta says, holding position so he’s just out of sight. “Of course Frieza’s little lapdog would come around to finish up his master’s dirty work.”  
The mechanical whirring intensifies and Vegeta imagines Zarbon’s hand on a lever, threatening to turn it up a few notches.  
“Zarbon…” the Australian says, eyeing the business end of Vegeta’s magnum. “I don’t like this.”  
“Oh, be quiet, Jeice,” Zarbon says dismissively. “He won’t shoot you. He hasn’t killed anyone since he shot that mentor of his for coming to Frieza with his plan.”  
“ _What?_ ” Raditz breathes out from behind him, but shuts his mouth at Vegeta’s hand motion.  
“Not now,” Vegeta growls. He quirks his head minisculely to the side in a silent signal. Trusting that Raditz got the message, he advances toward Jeice and Goku. Zarbon is still out of sight, but Vegeta knows that they’re evenly matched.  
“Let Kakarot go,” Vegeta commands Jeice. “And I won’t put a bullet between your eyes.”  
Jeice nervously glances over to Zarbon before looking back at Vegeta. “I think he’s serious,” he says. “I’d really rather not get shot today.”  
“Coward,” Zarbon hisses.  
Vegeta watches as Goku silently slips from his restraints. Before Jeice has the chance to react, Goku wrestles the gun from him and jumps to his feet.  
Vegeta advances, whipping around the console to see Zarbon’s surprised expression. Patience may have been the man’s greatest strength, but underestimating his opponents was his greatest weakness. Vegeta presses the barrel to Zarbon’s head before he can fumble his own pistol into position.  
“Please,” Zarbon whimpers, dropping his gun at Goku’s command. “I’ll let Frieza’s plan go, just don’t-” he’s cut off by the butt of Vegeta’s gun meeting his head with a loud _crack_ , and he crumples unconscious to the floor.  
“Coward indeed,” Vegeta mutters. He stiffens at the sound of a cocking gun behind him. There’s the deafening boom of gunfire, and Raditz hits the floor with a graceless THUD. 

“Oh, goody,” a terrifyingly familiar voice rings out from behind him. “I thought I was late to the party.”  
Vegeta hears another click and waits for the second bullet to hit his back. He stands frozen in place, defiance coursing through every vein in his body. How…? Swallowing hard, he turns to face the man responsible for ruining his entire life. 

Frieza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Visit VEGETApsycho on [tumblr](http://vegetapsycho.tumblr.com/post/153823853070/deborahslay-vegetapsycho-after-the-shitty) and [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/vegetapsycho)!


	21. Desperate Part II: Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short and it took just about a week to write, and I'm sorry. I know you guys anticipate updates. Hell, I anticipate updating! So thanks for being patient and awesome. This has been a wild ride. Only one more chapter to go... 
> 
> Thanks to Ann_Ominous for being a great beta <3

“Oh, Vegeta, don’t look so surprised,” Frieza sighs, tilting his head to the side and pouting. “You had to have known this was coming.”  
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Vegeta grits out through his teeth. “Calling yourself God, though? Even I never thought you’d be so grandiose,” he says, referring to the message left in the cafe.  
Frieza giggles infuriatingly. “The verse was a nice touch, wasn’t it? A by-product of my... upbringing. But you’re not very bright, are you, monkey?” he taunts. “I’ve had this planned for _years_. It’s so easy to fake your own death when you’re as connected as I am. I really did enjoy my time away from everything. Now drop your fucking weapon.”  
“Or what, you’ll shoot me? You won’t let me die so easily.”  
“Oh, no, you’re absolutely right. I’ll shoot _him_.” Frieza aims the glock just over Vegeta’s shoulder. At Goku. 

In that moment, Vegeta realizes his greatest weaknesses. But there’s no turning back. There’s nowhere to hide, so his only goal is to get himself, Raditz, and Goku out alive.  
“Your quarrel is with me, let him go.”  
Frieza shakes his head like he’s dealing with an insolent child. “Poor Vegeta. Your time away has made you soft, hasn’t it? You were so _broken_ when I left you to your own devices that I thought you were going to get yourself killed with your recklessness. I’m so delighted you lived long enough for me to kill you myself.”  
“What do you mean?” Vegeta begins to make peace with the fact that he’s running out of options, but the longer he can keep Frieza talking, the longer he has to formulate some semblance of a plan.  
“You’d never known anything else, monkey,” Frieza grins. “Ever since I exterminated your precious little family, you were my loyal pawn. Until you weren’t.” His mouth drops into a frown at the last sentence, and he glances away like he’s lost in his nostalgia. He sighs, then his gaze swings back and fixes Vegeta in its cold stare. “I decided not to kill you right away. I would eventually, I knew - if you didn’t get yourself killed first - but I’m a patient man. I let you think you were finally free of me. I let you get comfortable. It was just my luck that you met a girl. I think you were finally starting to feel content, weren’t you? When Zarbon told me it was time to mobilize, I thought Christmas had come early.”  
Vegeta steels himself at the mention of Bulma. His heart clenches as he realizes he let her leave by herself. But he can’t focus on her, not now. He needs to make sure Frieza doesn’t leave here alive. He should have killed him when he had the chance. 

“My, my,” Frieza says as the hum of the gravity room intensifies, interrupting Vegeta’s reverie. “It’s time for me to go.” He backs toward the door, each step a struggle as he fights against the room’s increasing force.  
“I don’t think so,” Goku says, stepping forward from behind Vegeta with Jeice’s gun raised to the Australian’s head.  
“This contraption is rigged to blow in five minutes, and you’re wasting precious time on empty threats against somebody I couldn’t care less about? Cute.” 

“Why all this?” Vegeta asks, motioning around him with his free hand. There’s no plan yet, but now that Goku is on his side, maybe he’ll stand a chance. That is, if Zarbon doesn’t come to in the meantime. Vegeta is pretty sure he put him out cold, but today has been full of surprises.  
“To mess with you, of course,” Frieza giggles. He takes another step to the door, but Goku throws Jeice to the ground and trains it on Frieza instead.  
Vegeta can tell that Frieza isn’t ready to call Goku’s bluff. He knows that Goku is too kind-hearted to pull the trigger, but Frieza is smart enough not to push buttons in a desperate situation.  
“So you let me have a life I finally want to live, and then you chip away at it before pulling the rug out from under me altogether? Is that it?” Vegeta growls. Maybe he should let Frieza leave so the he can get out of here, too. Maybe Frieza hopes he’ll get caught in the blast when the gravity room blows sky high.  
“Well, yes, why else?” Frieza says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “You don’t just make plans to assassinate me and try to carry them out, _Saiyan._ There are consequences for your actions. Some just take longer than others.” 

Frieza’s eyes flit about the room, and Vegeta can tell he’s starting to feel nervous by the cracking and grinding noises.  
The entire chamber starts to thrum and the vibrations intensify. The floor shakes suddenly and violently, toppling everyone off their feet with the sudden spike in Gs. Vegeta takes the moment to reorient himself and lunges for the gun in Goku’s hand. Goku gives it up willingly, the look of surprise on his face fleeting when he sees Vegeta’s next move.  
“Take care of it!” he yells to Goku behind him. He advances toward Frieza, who struggles against the increased gravity to get to his feet.  
Frieza moves backwards toward the door. He’s going to make a break for it, but Vegeta needs to be faster.  
Red lights begin to flash and the room creaks and groans.  
“ _Warning,_ ” a robotic voice intones. “ _Overload imminent. Please evacuate. Warning._ ”  
“Blowing us up?” Vegeta says, struggling against gravity to point the gun at the crime lord. “That’s messy, even for you.”  
“You know I’ve always enjoyed a good show.” Frieza narrows his eyes. He makes an explosion gesture with his hands, wiggling his fingers to imitate debris falling from the sky. “Boom. And you’ll be in pieces.”  
Jeice sways unsteadily as he stands upright. Then he points to Frieza. “You were gonna let me die, weren’t you?!” Unheeding of Vegeta’s presence and his gun, he pushes forward, pure determination putting movement into his heavy limbs. He doesn’t get very far. A loud bang echoes off of the chamber and he falls, dead before he hits the ground. 

Frieza doesn’t even look at him, instead, he keeps a wary eye on Vegeta. He hadn’t intended on Goku becoming an active participant in this fight. The tables have turned, but he’d rather die than admit that out loud. He prays Vegeta hasn’t realized his advantage, but that’s probably asking for too much. 

Vegeta is broken from his concentration by Goku’s frantic voice behind him. “I can’t shut it down, it’s gonna blow!”  
Frieza takes the momentary distraction to pull the trigger.  
Vegeta stands stock still as he realizes that the bullet shot right past his head and that Frieza’s aim was inaccurate only due to the violent rocking and waving of the room.  
There’s a great _crack_ and Frieza stares at Vegeta in shock.  
Blood pours from his stomach as he coughs and sputters. Vegeta stares back, then realizes it was _his_ gun that just discharged, _his_ finger that pulled the trigger.  
Time slows as Frieza falls to his knees. Vegeta holsters the smoking gun in his hands and relieves Frieza of his weapon. He turns to run to the console- as much as one can run with this much gravity pulling at them, anyway. He kicks Zarbon’s crumpled form out of the way and frantically tries pressing buttons and pulling levers.  
There’s no effect.  
“We have to get out,” Vegeta realizes. The high-pitched whine in the air tells him that it’s probably too late and he might not make it out alive. That _they_ might not make it out alive. Shit. Electricity crackles across the console, causing it to short-circuit and start belching smoke.  
“Help me get Raditz,” Vegeta coughs, waving the smoke away and moving to his fallen companion. 

Raditz groans as Vegeta rolls him over. There’s a substantial pool of blood beneath him and his face is ashen. It doesn’t look good, and the increased gravity probably isn’t helping to staunch the flow of blood, either. Goku is at his side in an instant, slinging one of Raditz’s arms over his shoulder while Vegeta hoists the other around his. The height difference makes it awkward for them to carry him, but they manage anyway.  
“What about that guy?” Goku yells over the alarms. He nods back over his shoulder toward Zarbon.  
“Fuck him,” Vegeta snaps, struggling toward the door. Goku hesitates for a moment longer, causing Raditz’s arm to fall from his shoulder and his full weight to fall to Vegeta.  
“I’ve got to get him out,” Goku snaps back.  
Vegeta hisses at the idiot’s determination. The man held him hostage, for God’s sake, and they’re all about to die in a massive explosion. “Leave him!”  
Goku stops in his tracks and turns to Vegeta. “I can’t just let him die. I can’t.” 

“Tch.” Vegeta frowns and turns back to his goal: the door. First things first: get Raditz outside. Then he’ll return and drag Goku out of here kicking and screaming if he has to. Zarbon doesn’t deserve help.  
Something’s missing, he realizes. There’s blood all over the floor and the handle- Frieza must have gotten himself outside. He won’t get very far with a bullet in his abdomen, so Vegeta shoves his panic aside and focuses on pulling Raditz the last few feet to freedom. 

\---

Frieza coughs up a mouthful of blood as he retreats toward the tree line. Any time now, the whole thing will explode, taking Vegeta with it. Such a shame about Zarbon. It’s hard to find a good Second in this day and age. Nobody cares about loyalty anymore.  
Once he’s a safe distance away, he turns to watch the ‘accident’ waiting to happen. How tragic. The precious little monkey and his friends will be headline news tomorrow. Capsule Corporation will suffer a devastating blow, too, which may work in Frieza’s favor if he handles the situation just right. His lips curl into a malevolent grin. _Excellent._

\---

As Vegeta opens the door, a gust of icy wind blows in. He sigh with relief at being able to move in normal gravity again and pulls Raditz as far away as he can afford before dropping him to the ground. “Stay here. I’ve got to go rescue an idiot.”  
Raditz groans in response, and while it’s not promising, it’s the best Vegeta can ask for right now.  
Vegeta races back to the gravity room before Raditz can make another sound and pulls against the unnatural force to retrieve Goku. The idiot has Zarbon in his arms and is already halfway to the door by the time Vegeta gets to him. Knowing that it would be futile to convince Goku to leave the man behind, he instead helps to carry him. The moment he reaches solid ground, he’s dumping him and making a run for it, and Goku’s coming with him. He won’t have a choice.  
The gravity room starts to vibrate with such intensity that Vegeta knows they have mere seconds left. As they reach the chilly night air, he drops Zarbon’s limp form to the ground and grabs Goku by the wrist. They book it, hoping to at least find shelter in the surrounding forest before it explodes, but it's too late.  
They dive to the ground as the earsplitting shriek of steel rending apart rings out. The force of the blast throws them into the nearby bushes with such force that they’re both knocked unconscious before making contact with the ground. 

\---

Frieza ducks as the shockwave rushes over him, holding his bleeding stomach in one arm and covering his head and neck with the other.  
_Good._  
Once he’s certain that no debris is going to come falling out of the sky to impale him, he slinks away into the darkness-  
Only to hit something, no, someone-  
He stops in his tracks. That someone has a gun pointed at his forehead. 

\---

The flashing blue and red lights light up the dense foliage surrounding the crater of what used to be the gravity room. Raditz is vaguely aware of the sensation of motion and the fact that he’s not on the ground anymore. He feels so _cold_. Concerned faces crowd over him.  
“Stay with me,” the voices whisper and scream. There’s a low rumble that roars in his ears like a jet turbine and a wailing in the distance that threatens to deafen him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time writing this, I'll be honest. There were so many things that needed to be Just So and it was a little overwhelming. But I made it!  
> Mostly.  
> There's still some really important things that need to go down. But we'll make it through that together when we get to it, won't we?
> 
>  **December 19/16 edit:** I have changed a small sentence near the end regarding Vegeta and Goku's proximity to the GR because of a detail I just wrote in the last chapter. I'm sorry there's been such a delay on it, but it's that time of year unfortunately. I'll hopefully have a little bit of writing time this week before we head out to visit family in another city, so send me your "get stuff done" vibes ;) and thank you all for your reviews, friendship, and patience  <3


	22. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. The post-holiday blues have left me and I was finally able to finish the chapter. And what a chapter it is! 
> 
> Just some notes before we head into it. The part in the beginning of the story where Goku and Vegeta meet has been altered minusculely; I changed Goku's legal first name to Kakarot instead of it being his last name. I never liked the way "Goku Kakarot" sounded. 
> 
> Also, a huge thank you to everyone who commented to check up on me, to SarahW for egging me on as I finally hunkered down and got to work in finishing this, and to Ann_Ominous for being a fantastic beta and sounding board. And a big thank you to all my readers, whether you've been here from the start or you're just catching up now. You guys mean the world to me and it's been such a nice welcome to this fandom that I think I'll stay here for a good, long while.

“It’s over for you, Frieza.” Bulma says, confident words betrayed by her shaking hands as she points the weapon at Frieza’s head. She swallows roughly and her lip trembles. She wants nothing more than to rush to her friends’ sides, but she needs to do this. For Vegeta.  
For all of them.

Frieza sighs and rolls his eyes. Of _course_ it would be like this. Leave it to some impish woman to ruin his grand scheme. His sweet, sweet revenge on that insolent moron was supposed to be capped off with a quiet escape after watching him burn to a crisp. Oh, well. It’s the risk one takes when one avoids getting their hands dirty.  
Jeice and Zarbon are nothing more than write-offs now; a shame, since Frieza had such high hopes for them. Such misplaced trust would not be given so freely in the future. His focus returning to the present situation, he raises one hand slowly in the air, eyes alight with the reflection of the not-too-distant raging inferno. His other hand grips his stomach as blood continues to seep from the wound.  
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he hisses. “Your pretty little corpse could have been blown to pieces by now. No matter, your little lover boy is gone and that’s what really counts.” He grins wickedly, taking in her displeasure at his words with unabashed glee. 

“Shut up!” Bulma shrieks, bringing her other hand up to steady the gun. 

“Or, what? You’ll shoot me?” Frieza croons mockingly. “Won’t that make a nice headline. ‘Local scientist shoots crime lord dead after he takes away everything she loves.’” 

Bulma’s finger twitches against the trigger and Frieza flinches minisculely despite himself. Hatred for him burns in her bright blue eyes. “Oh, no,” she says, sneering. “You’re already ‘dead’, remember? They’d never find the body.” 

Frieza sniffs, staring back at her up the barrel of her gun. “Big words for somebody who hasn’t even had the guts to pull the trigger yet. You’re too weak to do it.” He pauses. “So here’s what’s going to happen: you’ve already call law enforcement, I presume. You’ll hand me over to them, but I’ve got friends in high places. And while I’m in prison, I’ll bide my time. I have power, Ms. Briefs, more than you can imagine. You may have money, but I have influence.”  
He leans right in and places his forehead against the gun while looking her in the eye. “I can take anything away from anybody. And fear is the most powerful motivator of them all.” 

\---

It would have been Bulma’s honor to blow Frieza’s brains out at that moment, but she wasn’t prepared to deal with the extensive trouble of hiding the body and the guilt that would surely wrack her for years afterward.

The more he rambles on about power and money and fear, the more her finger itches to pull the trigger. But she can see the flashing blue and red lights on the trees, and she knows what she has to do.

\---

Bulma holds her knees to her chest in the hospital waiting room. Goku is in the ICU, but Vegeta is still in surgery. It’s been over an hour since they rushed him into the operating theater. Chi-Chi sits next to her, holding her hand and squeezing every so often both for her own assurance and for Bulma’s. They’ve exchanged barely five words over the course of their wait. 

The lack of news is agonizing and her stomach churns with the thought of the worst coming to pass. Bulma checks her phone for what feels like the millionth time, but Krillin and Piccolo aren’t answering her texts. She calls Krillin again, but it goes straight to voicemail. Even Yamcha isn’t picking up, which infuriates her to no end. Yamcha _always_ answers her texts. 

Hours pass. She begins to prepare for the worst.

Then a doctor comes out, her hands clasped formally behind her back. “Ms. Briefs, Vegeta is out of surgery. We will be transferring him to a private room as you requested. He’s in stable condition and will be able to have visitors as soon as tomorrow afternoon.”

Bulma’s heart nearly bursts with the relief that pours over her. Chi-Chi’s tears spill over as their eyes meet. The two women embrace, and Bulma mutters, “Thank God, thank God,” over and over into Chi-Chi’s shoulder. They embrace each other tightly and hold on.  
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” the doctor says and departs.  
“I think you should go home and get some rest,” Chi-Chi says. “It’s nearly four in the morning.”  
“What about you?”  
“I’m going to wait for any word on Goku,” she replies. “But I wasn’t kidnapped earlier today, so I’m feeling a little better than I imagine you are at the moment.”  
Bulma nods her assent. “I’ll let the driver know.” 

Chi-Chi watches her friend leave and slumps back into the chair. The minutes tick by and before she realizes, she falls asleep. 

\---  
Almost- _beep_ there- _beep_

No matter how fast Vegeta runs, every time he’s just within reach of her, Bulma disappears into smoke and then reappears in the distance, beckoning him to join her. It feels like running through sand toward a mirage. 

This time, the closer he gets, the louder the insistent beeping that invades Vegeta’s consciousness gets.  
_Wake up,_ it tells him over and over. _Beep. Beep. Beep._  
His eyes snap open. He groans and tries to sit up, but the pain lancing through his body has other plans. Instead, he cranes his neck to look around him, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar surroundings.  
Is that… Bulma?  
And... Chi-Chi?  
Asleep in really uncomfortable-looking chairs?  
Vegeta looks to his left to see Goku lying sound asleep in a hospital bed, and then he clues in that the beeping he heard was a machine attached to Goku’s wrist with an IV. And _then_ he realizes that he, too, is in a hospital bed.

The last thing Vegeta remembers is going to the gravity room to find Bulma and Goku. His mind struggles to supply him with the events that followed. He had gone with Raditz- so where was he? Vegeta remembers the distinctive bang of a gunshot, Raditz hitting the floor- Suddenly, Frieza’s face wiggles its way into his conscious memory and the beeping of the machine next to him intensifies with his heart rate.  
Bulma lifts her head and furrows her brow in Vegeta’s direction. “You’re awake?” she asks quietly, breathlessly. An abundance of emotion overflows into the simple question, the most prominent of which is relief.  
Vegeta breathes heavily with panic. “Frieza…” he mutters, eyes going wide. His palms start to sweat and suddenly Bulma’s hand is on his shoulder.  
“You’re safe. We’re safe. It’s over.”  
The physical contact yanks Vegeta back to reality and he blinks up at Bulma in shock. “Bulma?” he asks, reaching out to make sure she’s really there this time. When his palm presses against her soft cheek, she nuzzles her head into it.  
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so glad you’re okay,” she breathes. She leans back as a nurse comes in to administer more anaesthetic into Vegeta’s IV drip, summoned by the heart rate monitor that went crazy, but which is now quieting back down as Bulma soothes him.  
The pain fades away and Bulma’s smiling, tearful face is the last thing he sees before he drops out of consciousness once more. 

\---

In a room on another floor, a long-haired gunshot victim lies facing the ceiling. His medical bills are being taken care of, they had told him. By Capsule Corporation. He winces as he turns onto his side, wondering when he’ll be allowed to go back home to his daughter. He’s getting far too old for this.

\---

“So how did you get us a private room, anyway?” Vegeta queries. There’s a solid wall that slides across the room at night, allowing both Goku and him some privacy from each other.  
Bulma looks up from reading on her tablet and shrugs. “Money talks. It’s a small hospital, and Capsule Corporation donates a substantial amount to it every year. They were more than happy to oblige.”  
Vegeta nods, finding the answer satisfactory. The pain these days manifests as a constant ache stretching across his back, but he finds that if he doesn’t focus on it too much, it doesn’t cause to many problems. Even Goku’s inane chit-chat from day to day is preferable to wallowing in self-pity. It’s only been two weeks since he woke up, but it feels like so much longer than that. He can’t wait to get out and put his life back together - again. 

“I think it’s time to go pick up dinner, any requests?” Chi-Chi asks upon re-entering the room with Goku, who perks up at the mention of food. He climbs onto his bed and yawns.  
“Anything is better than what they serve us here,” Vegeta mumbles. He’d grown sick and tired of hospital food by day three, and the painkillers meant he didn’t have much of an appetite, anyway.  
Goku agrees.  
Once the women leave the room, Vegeta turns to Goku and regards him with a frown.  
Self-conscious under the scrutiny, Goku rubs the back of his neck. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks nervously. 

After a long moment, Vegeta states, “I’ve been doing some thinking about the cafe.”  
Goku cuts him off there. “We’ll get it back up and running in no time. Just you wait and see.”  
“I’m thinking of selling it,” Vegeta says at almost the same time.  
“What?” Goku says as he processes the information. “No, you can’t!”  
“You and Bulma got kidnapped because of that cafe. You almost died,” Vegeta growls. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t beat himself up over that fact.  
Goku frowns, the unusual expressing crinkling his features. “So, what? That’s over now. Frieza was arrested.”  
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Maybe I should put some distance between myself and, well, everyone else.”  
Goku shakes his head vehemently. “No. You’re one of us now, whether you like it or not. And yeah, you might be my - our - boss, technically, but you’re our friend too, dammit.” He levels Vegeta in his best glare to try and prove his point.

Deep down, Vegeta knows that he’s right. He’s never felt such a sense of belonging before in his life. But it would be selfish of him to stay. It’s his fault that everyone was in danger in the first place.  
“That isn’t the only thing, is it?” Goku asks, ever more perceptive than Vegeta likes to give him credit for.  
“No,” Vegeta says without meaning to.  
Goku raises his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? There something else on your mind? Like a certain blue-haired beauty?”  
It’s Vegeta’s turn to fix Goku in one of his famous icy glares and Goku holds up his hands in appeasement. But he’s right about that, too. Vegeta cares about Bulma more than he ever intended to, and that’s not something will disappear when he goes. If he goes. 

“You gotta stay,” Goku interrupts his thoughts abruptly. “I’m thinkin’ of asking Chi-Chi to marry me, once I’m out of the hospital.” 

\---

The day that the cafe is set to reopen, Vegeta wakes up and stares at the ceiling for at least ten minutes before he musters the strength to get out of bed. Lacking his routine of working and going to the gym, his sleep schedule has gone to shit. The dark circles under his eyes that stare back at him from the mirror only further solidify his resolve to get back on track as soon as he can. There’s a long day ahead of him. There’s the pre-open party, actually working, and then a dinner with the crew and the girls afterward. He wants to go back to sleep just thinking about it. 

Vegeta stares at the pink scars on his back in the mirror. They said that he was lucky. They said that had he been closer, the damage would be much more extensive and severe. As it is, the nerve damage alone is enough to be a pain in the ass for a long while. 

There’s a knock at his door. Vegeta works against the stiffness in his back in order to go answer it to find Bulma waiting on his doorstep. She holds a bouquet of red roses in a crystal vase and grins widely at him. “These are for you.”  
Vegeta flushes and steps aside to let her in. “For me?” he repeats as she searches for a suitable place to put them.  
“Yep. To, you know, say thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“For saving my life, dumbass,” Bulma says, placing the vase on the counter next to the window. “If I brought you flowers in the hospital, that would have seemed kinda gimmicky. So I wanted to wait until later.”  
“Oh.” Vegeta stares at them dumbly. “Does this mean I owe you flowers for getting Frieza arrested?”  
Bulma smirks. “Nah, but I do take _other_ forms of payment,” she says, sidling up to Vegeta and nudging him with her shoulder.  
“Such as…?”  
“I dunno, hugs, kisses, pledges of allegiance, things like that.”  
The flush rises from Vegeta’s cheeks to the tips of his ears. He’s barely had a moment alone with her. She’s been so busy dealing with the authorities and reconstructing the gravity room, and his physical therapy sessions have been long, uncompromising, and exhausting. Balancing therapy with reopening the cafe was another matter entirely, especially with Goku on the mend as well.  
“Is that so?” he smirks back, glad that their bantering skills haven’t suffered from their time apart. “Well, then I, Vegeta, owner and proprietor of the Z Cafe, do hereby pledge my allegiance to you, Bulma Briefs, heiress and CEO of the Capsule Corporation, to do your bidding every second Sunday and sometimes Thursday evenings.” The deadpan tone in which he states it makes Bulma double over with laughter.  
“You’re hilarious. I think that hospital stay did wonders for your sense of humor. But really, c’mere.” Bulma pulls Vegeta to her and wraps her arms gingerly around his back and the sensitive, still-healing skin there. “I’ve missed you.”  
Vegeta stiffens and looks down at the top of her head before reluctantly embracing her as well. It’s a fairly recent thing, acknowledging that their relationship has gone beyond being just friends, and he still finds it incredibly awkward to display affection like this.  
“I’ve been here the whole time,” he mutters, but lets himself get lost in the warmth of her anyway. Truth be told, he’s missed her, too.  
Then he pulls back and holds Bulma’s shoulders at arm's length. There are important matters to settle first.  
“I haven’t been contacted by the police yet,” he states warily. He’s sure they should have at least gotten in touch for a statement by now.  
“I know,” Bulma smiles. “There’s enough evidence that you won’t have to testify. You’ll be fine.”  
Her purposeful vagueness makes Vegeta uneasy, but he decides to let it go for now. This too is a recent thing: trusting other people not to screw him over. 

“You just about ready to go?” she asks, noting his half-dressed state with more than a little appreciation.  
“Mm,” he mumbles, the flush rising in his cheeks again. “Let me brush my teeth.”  
“And find a shirt,” Bulma calls as Vegeta enters the bathroom. “Not that I mind,” she adds, mostly to herself. 

Vegeta emerges a few minutes later with a work shirt on and a light jacket slung over his shoulder. “I’m ready.”  
He opens the door for Bulma and then climbs into the front seat of her vintage Mustang, which he hasn’t had the pleasure of riding in yet. The custom blue paint job glistens in the morning sun, the flecks dazzling his eyes.  
“Are you nervous to be back?” Bulma asks as she starts the engine, which purrs like a kitten.  
“No,” Vegeta sniffs and looks out the window away from her.  
Bulma gives the back of his head a knowing smile and puts the car in gear. 

Once they’re at the cafe, which officially opens at noon, Vegeta takes a deep breath before getting out of the car.  
“Alright, let’s do this,” Bulma says. She meets him at the front of the car and links her arm in his. 

 

\---

With all hands on deck, the short day goes by smoothly. With a couple of hours to go before they open the doors, everybody celebrates the second re-opening with catered breakfast and coffee. Bulma makes a toast to Vegeta and the cafe, causing him to blush and be unable to make eye contact with anyone as they all cheer for him. He scowls, but inwardly, he’s happy to be accepted. He just wishes the attention would hurry up and be on somebody else, already. 

The regular customers stream in when the doors finally open, and soon, the cafe is as animated as it was before the fire. Vegeta steps out onto the floor to survey the scene, allowing himself a small, satisfied smile. It’ll be okay.  
Goku sidles up next to him and claps an arm onto his shoulder, to Vegeta’s dismay.  
“So, everything in place for tonight?” He grins, but Vegeta can feel the nervous energy flowing through him.  
Vegeta nods. “Bulma’s finalizing everything. She’ll bring Chi-Chi and Piccolo. Everyone else is making their way there after we close.”  
“Do they know the plan?”  
“Kakarot, it’s handled. Just relax.” It’s bad enough that Goku roped him into this, but putting him in charge of coordinating everyone isn’t Vegeta’s idea of a good time. He has a hard enough time with it at work, never mind a social event. 

When the last customer finally leaves the shop at six, Vegeta locks the door behind them and turns to the baristas. “Let’s get this place clean as fast as we can. Krillin, you and Kakarot head out. We’ll take care of the rest.” 

\---

Vegeta fidgets with the dark blue silk tie around his neck. The knot is much more complicated than the bowtie, but it’s a present from Bulma and she would be disappointed if he didn’t wear it. He watches the instruction video Bulma sent him for the third time before finally getting it right. Then his phone lights up with a call from the woman herself.  
“Everything set?” he answers.  
“Sure is, we’re just waiting on word from Krillin before we head over there. Did you get the tie on?”  
“Mhm,” Vegeta mumbles. “Finally.”  
“Glad to hear it. I’ll see you soon.” 

Vegeta is among the last to arrive. The small banquet hall is beautifully furnished and tastefully decorated. The maitre d’ shows him to a seat at the head of the table, next to an empty one which he assumes to be reserved for Bulma.  
She had insisted on using one of her family’s restaurants for the occasion. The cafe was the backbone of their little community of friends, after all, and it was celebration-worthy for it to have made it through so much.  
Just as Vegeta sits down, Bulma, Piccolo, and Chi-Chi enter the room. Vegeta watches in awe as Bulma takes her place beside him. She had looked beautiful at the conference, but now she was downright stunning in her dark grey evening gown. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves and shows off her curves in a way that makes Vegeta very uncomfortable in his seat, all of a sudden.  
Bulma beams at his bewildered expression. “Doesn’t everyone look great?” she says, glancing around their table. “Look, even Goku cleans up real nice.” She nudges Vegeta and winks at him. “It’s nearly impossible to get him in a suit. Says it makes him feel ridiculous.”  
“That’s a sentiment I can agree with,” Vegeta mutters, surreptitiously adjusting himself under the table.  
Bulma frowns. “He looks really uncomfortable, don’t you think?”  
Vegeta watches as Chi-Chi sits next to Goku and leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “He’ll get over it.” He shrugs and turns back to Bulma and gestures around the room. “Was this his idea or yours?”  
Bulma lifts an eyebrow. “Take a wild guess.”  
Smirking, Vegeta takes a sip of his glass of water. “Why did I even ask?” 

Not fifteen minutes after everyone orders, the waiters begin to file in. They place appetizers and champagne down at each place setting, and as they leave, Goku catches Vegeta’s eye.  
After Vegeta nods his assent, Goku stands up and clears his throat. “I know we did a toast this morning,” he announced. “But I wanna say a few things.”  
After everyone settles down and he takes a sip of water, he begins. “First of all, I’m really, really glad you’re keeping the cafe, Vegeta,” Goku says, pointing his champagne glass to the head of the table. “I couldn’t imagine working with anyone else. You’ve done a lot for us.”  
He turns to the rest of them. “And you guys were really awesome while we were in the hospital. I was never bored because you all came to visit. Krillin, thank you for bringing the console. I’ve never played so many solid hours in my life.” He smiles at his friend, who grins back and shrugs self-consciously.  
“I don’t think I ever had to eat hospital food the entire time I was in there, and that’s a blessing.” After the chuckles die down, he swallows.  
“But most of all, I want to thank you, Chi-Chi,” he says, turning to his girlfriend, who smiles up at him. “You stuck by my side and helped me through the pain. You made sure I knew that you were there for me any time I needed you and that everything was gonna be okay. And I want nothing more than to always be there for you, too.”  
Her expression changes to one of shock as Goku drops down to one knee and pulls a small box from his pocket. The already-quiet room goes completely silent as everyone holds their collective breath.  
Opening the box and inhaling shakily, he continues, “Chi-Chi, I love you.I want us to be by each other’s sides for the rest of our lives.” He holds her hand, eyes imploring. “Will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep your eye out for the sequel to Black Coffee, coming soon to a musicofthespheres' account near you. 
> 
> It will be entitled Cream & Sugar, and it will be rated E. Thanks for reading <3
> 
> \--
> 
> Because my beta works full-time and I don't want to consume her life with this, I'm also looking for a secondary beta if anybody is interested. This will involve being given early access to the story as I write it, commenting (and possibly editing) privileges on the Google Document where I write, and just generally havin' a good time! Please contact me on tumblr via the link below if you're interested.
> 
> As a final note, if you're wanting to hang out with me on [tumblr](http://jadefyre.tumblr.com/ask) or my brand new [Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/jadefyre), I'd love to chat!


End file.
